BX  9225  .W4  G63  1901 
Gledstone,  James  Paterson 
George  Whitefield,  M.  A., 
field  preacher 


/t6d£levc-rtn/l<*s/p-  Y/evrpe  /f/uU/u/</ . 


A. I, J     •</ 


<  .■.ktfll.plt  .< 


George  Whitefield 

M.A.,    Field-Preacher 


By  JAMES 

PATERSON   GLEDSTONE 


'  Every  one  hath  his  proper  gift. 
Field- Preaching  is  my  plan; 
In  this  I  am  carried  as  on  eagles'  wings 
God  makes  way  for  me  everywhere  ' 


SECOXD    EDITION 


NEW  YORK  :  AMERICAN 
TRACT  SOCIETY  x*x  150 
NASSAU   STREET     1901 


MY    WIFE, 

AND 
TO    MY    DAUGHTER 

MAY, 

MY    FELLOW-HELPERS 
IN     MAKING     THIS     LOOK 


PREFACE 

THE  favourable  reception  which  was  given  to  my  '  Life 
and  Travels  of  George  Whitefield '  published  in  1S71, 
now  long  out  of  print,1  and  the  need  that  was  felt  in  certain 
quarters  for  a  briefer  life  of  the  great  field-preacher,  which 
nevertheless  should  be  full,  though  without  excess  of  detail, 
have  led  me  to  prepare  this  book.  The  main  idea  is  the  same 
in  both  books,  viz.  :  'To  reveal  a  great  heart,  stirred  with  the 
purest  emotion,  ever  desiring  absolute  perfection  in  goodness 
and  unintermittingly  seeking  it,  resolved  to  leave  nothing 
undone  by  which  others  might  become  partakers  with  itself  of 
the  great  salvation,  and  impatient  of  all  impediments,  whether 
ecclesiastical  or  social,  that  threatened  the  consummation  of 
its  hopes.' 

I.  The  greatness  of  Whitefield's  labours  is  not  easily  realised, 
and  not  even  a  three-volume  life  could  outline  it.  One 
month's  labours  are  recorded  in  this  brief  sentence — 'he 
preached  to  ten  thousand  persons  every  day  for  twenty-eight  / 
days.'  That  fact  will  bear  a  great  deal  of  analysing.  The 
far-reaching  influence  of  his  preaching  can  only  be  imagined 
by  remembering  that  his  vast  congregations  were  often 
gathered  together  in   thinly  populated  districts — e.g.  Haworth 

'  See  extracts  from  some  reviews  at  the  end  of  this  volume. 


vi  PREFACE 

on  the  Yorkshire  moors,  Cambuslang  the  Scotch  village,  the 
backwoods  of  the  American  settlements — persons  coming 
long  distances,  at  great  cost  of  time  and  trouble,  to  hear 
him.  He  said  of  his  forest-preaching — ■'  I  am  hunting  after 
poor  sinners  in  these  ungospelized  wilds.  People  are  willing 
to  hear,  and  I  am  willing  to  preach.'  He  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  to  a  point  where  he  and  they  could  come  into 
contact. 

II.  It  will  be  noticed  that,  although  Calvinism  is  generally 
supposed  to  have  a  deadening  influence  upon  the  hearts  of  its 
disciples,  Whitefield  was  always  aggressive  and  in  advance  of 
his  brethren  in  the  adoption  of  new  methods  of  doing  good. 

i  He  led  the  way  in  field-preaching,  in  the  employment  of 
'  laymen  as  preachers,  in  organising  the  new  Welsh  converts 
into  a  General  Association  of  Methodists,  and  he  seems  also 
to  have  been  the  first  to  prepare  a  hymn-book  for  his  congre- 
gation at  the  Tabernacle.  He  was  a  pathfinder.  His  zeal, 
courage,  and  faith  kept  him  foremost. 

III.  Some  suggestion  may  be  found  in  this  life  as  to  the 
relation  of  evangelistic  to  pastoral  work.  Whitefield  was 
frequently  invited  to  labour  in  given  districts  ;  and,  in  the 
main,  with  very  satisfactory  results.  It  is  true  that  his  work 
was  fiercely  assailed,  and  that  he  passed  through  a  storm  of 
obloquy,  but  it  is  also  true  that  the  storm  abated  towards  the 
close  of  his  life,  and  that  his  opponents  and  he  came  nearer 
together.  They  had  been  stirred  by  his  contagious  zeal,  and 
both  he  and  they  had  mellowed  in  charity.  In  multitudes  of 
instances  he  went  uninvited,  and  his  work,  done  on  the  race- 
course, in  the  field,  or  in  the  market-place,  just  left  its  results 


PREFACE  vii 

for  the  settled  pastor  to  gather ;  which  was  perhaps  the  easiest 
method. 

IV.  The  ethical  value  of  his  work  was  individualistic  during 
his  life ;  the  social  and  political  appeared  afterwards.  He 
worked  for  the  units ;  the  units  in  their  aggregation  must 
work  for  the  body  politic.  It  were  as  idle  and  unjust  to 
blame  him  for  not  personally  inaugurating  large  reforms  as  to 
blame  the  Apostle  Paul  for  not  procuring  the  franchise  for 
Roman  Christians.  He  was  in  the  line  of  progress,  and  his 
labours  continue  in  new  forms  of  usefulness.  He  aimed  at 
making  new  men,  the  new  men  must  make  the  new  State.  / 
And  no  doubt  the  social  and  political  and  international 
success  of  Christianity  would  come  sooner  and  be  greater 
were  Christians  to  labour  more  zealously  for  personal  conver- 
sions.    To  get  a  man  a  new  home  is  a  good  thing ;  to  get  him 

a  new  heart  is  better.      '  This  ought  ye  to  do,  and  not  to  leave 
the  other  undone.' 

V.  No  careful  student  of  his  life  will  conclude  that  he  had 
no  formative  influence  because  he  was  neither  a  constructive 
theologian  nor  the  founder  of  a  sect.  He  was  more  and 
better  than  either  of  these.  He  was  the  means  of  calling 
multitudes  from  death  unto  life  ;  and  then  they  formed  them- 
selves into  societies  and  churches  as  they  saw  best.  In  the 
coming  days  of  Church  union  it  may  appear  that  the  greatest 
heart  of  the  evangelical  movement  was  far  before  his  time, 
when,  as  a  young  man  of  twenty-seven,  he  said :— '  I  am 
persuaded  there  is  no  such  form  of  Church  government 
prescribed  in  the  book  of  God  as  excludes  a  toleration  of  all 
other  forms  whatsoever.'     '  O  that  the  power  of  religion  may 


viii  PREFACE 

revive  !  Nothing  but  that  can  break  down  the  partition  wall 
of  bigotry.'  Or,  in  other  words,  nothing  but  that  can  unite 
Christians  as  such.  Is  not  that  the  ideal  of  Christian  fellow- 
ship toward  which  all  the  churches  are  moving  ?  As  regards 
sectarianism  YVhitefield  was  a  centrifugal  force,  as  regards 
true  Christian  union  he  was  centripetal.  He  lived  for  the 
larger  idea  as  it  is  to  be  realised  and  embodied  by  love. 

VI.  The  secret  of  Whitefield's  marvellous  influence  has 
been  and  always  will  be  a  problem  of  absorbing  interest.  It 
cannot  be  given  on  the  page  of  a  book,  but  might  perhaps  be 
discovered  by  one  who  should  reverently,  prayerfully,  and 
sympathetically  travel  with  him  day  by  day  through  his 
mighty  labours  for  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  watch  with  him 
in  his  hours  and  days  of  prayer.  A  rapid  reading  of  this  or 
of  any  other  book  will  not  discover  it.  Imagination,  sympathy, 
fellowship,  and  imitation  must  be  employed.  He  was  a 
"  mystic.  His  was  a  'life  hid  with  Christ  in  God,'  pouring 
itself  out  in  loving  service  through  an  organism  perfectly 
adapted  to  the  work  of  preaching.  As  his  oratorical  genius 
was  in  full  bloom  as  soon  as  he  began  to  preach,  so  also  was 
he  wholly  consecrated  to  the  will  of  God  and  filled  with  the 
Spirit  from  the  time  of  his  new  birth.  The  outward  demon- 
stration never  exceeded  the  inward  reality,  hence  there  never 
was  a  halt,  never  a  break,  never  a  decline.  '  He  went  from 
strength  to  strength,  until  he  appeared  before  God  in  Zion.' 

As  we  read  the  fierce  and  scornful  language  in  which  he  was 

i «    assailed  from  so  many  quarters,  and  notice,  on  the  other  side, 

the  multitudes  of  all  classes,  including  crowds  of  the  aristocracy, 


PREFACE  ix 

some  of  them  Christians  of  the  warmest  devotion,  who  came 
to  hear  him,  it  suggests  the  inquiry  whether,  by  all  the  means 
used,  the  English  people,  rich  and  poor,  but  especially  the 
titled,  are  as  deeply  and  as  widely  influenced  by  the  gospel 
now  as  they  were  a  hundred  and  fifty  years  ago.  If  the 
intensity  of  the  hatred  and  opposition  directed  against  him 
accurately  indicated  the  enormous  influence  which  he 
wielded,  as  it  certainly  did,  is  the  prevalent  indifference  of 
to-day  to  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  the  measure  of  the 
feebleness  that  is  neglected  ?  One  thing  is  certain :  the 
whole  Church  of  God  needs  a  fresh  baptism  of  the  Holy 
Spirit ;  and  thankful  shall  we  be,  if  it  be  soon  given. 

Let  me  add  a  word    of  sincere   thanks  to    my  friend    the 

Rev.  G.  A.  Suttle,  the  Minister  of  Tottenham  Court  Chapel, 

fur  many  valuable  services  given  to  me  in  the  preparation  of 

this  book  ;  to  Mr.  Robson  and  Mr.  Casstine,  of  the  Homes  for 

Little   Boys,  Swanley,  for  the  pains  they  took   to  obtain  the 

beautiful  photograph  (p.  300)  of  a  medallion  of  Whitefield  in 

my  possession;  to  Mr.  J.  Thomson,  of  Grosvenor  Street,  VV., 

for  the  excellent  reproduction  of  a  very  rare  full-length  portrait 

of  Whitefield  when  he  was  twenty-nine  years  of  age,  painted 

by  Francis  Kyte  ;  and  to   Mrs.   Bellows,  of    Gloucester,    for 

procuring  me  an  etching  of  the  Bell  Inn,  Gloucester,  as  it  was 

in  ^Vhiteiield's  time. 

J.  P.  G. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER    I. 
I714-I735- 

PAGE 
HIS     PARENTAGE     ANT)     CHILDHOOD— AT     OXFORD  -AMONG      THE 

METHODISTS— HIS   CONVERSION  ....  I 

CHAPTER   II. 
1736. 

HIS   ORDINATION    AS    DEACON — ESSAYS    IN    PREACHING  .  .         25 

CHAPTER   III. 
March,  1737— March,  1738. 

APPOINTED      CHAPLAIN      TO      THE      GEORGIAN      COLONY —  EARLY 

POPULARITY — FIRST    VOYAGE      .  .  .  .  40 

CHAPTER   IV. 
1738. 

ROUGH    EXPERIENCES    IN    GEORGIA — SECOND    VOYAGE  .  .  59 

CHAPTER   V. 
December,   1738     April,   1739. 

FETTER      LANE     MEETINGS — ORDAINED      PRIEST— EXPELLED      THE 

CHCRCHES — OPEN-AIK    PREACHING  .  .  ,  .         6S 


xii  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHATTER   VI. 
May  to  August,  1739. 

IN    MOORFIELDS— ON   COMMONS— AT   FAIRS   AND    RACES        .  .         89 

CHAPTER   VII. 
August,  1739 — March,  1741. 

THIRD    VOYAGE — ITINERATING     IN    AMERICA — FOURTH    VOYAGE — 

BREACH   WITH   WESLEY  .  .  .  .  .112 

CHAPTER   VIII. 
March,  1741— August,  1744. 

LOSS   OF    POPULARITY — FIRST    VISIT    TO    SCOTLAND-   CONDUCT    OF 

THE    DISSENTERS  ......       l66 

CHAPTER   IX. 
August,  1744— July,  1748. 

FIFTH  VOYAGE— ADVENTURES  AND  CONTROVERSIES— WANDERINGS 

IN    AMERICA — INVALIDED    IN    BERMUDAS — SIXTH    VOYAGE  .       225 

CHAPTER  X. 
July,    1748-1752. 

APPOINTED     CHAPLAIN     TO     THE     COUNTESS     OF     HUNTINGDON — 

A   SLAVE-OWNER — STONED   BEFORE  A    BISHOP    .  .  .      245 

CHAPTER   XI. 
1753-1770. 

chapel-building  —  attacks    by    enemies  —infirmities — his 

death— the  results  of  his  work    ....     287 

Index  .  ,  ,  ,  .  .  .  -35' 


CHAPTER    I 
1714-1735 

HIS    PARENTAGE    AND    CHILDHOOD — AT    OXFORD AMONG    THE 

METHODISTS — HIS   CONVERSION 

THE  Rev.  Samuel  Whitefield,  a  clergyman  of  the  Church 
of  England,  who  first  held  a  living  in  Wiltshire,  and 
afterwards  one  at  Rockhampton,  in  Gloucestershire,  was  the 
great-grandfather  of  George  Whitefield.  Samuel  Whitefield 
had  five  daughters — two  of  whom  were  married  to  clergymen — 
and  two  sons,  one  of  whom,  named  after  his  father,  succeeded 
to  the  living  at  Rockhampton.  The  other  son,  Andrew, 
described  as  '  a  private  gentleman,'  had  a  family  of  fourteen 
children,  the  eldest  of  whom  was  Thomas.  Thomas  was 
established  as  a  wine-merchant  in  Bristol,  where  he  married 
Elizabeth  Edwards,  of  that  city ;  afterwards  they  removed  to 
Gloucester  to  keep  the  Bell  Inn,  now  the  Bell  Hotel.  They 
had  seven  children — one  daughter  and  six  sons ;  their  youngest, 
George,  was  born  in  the  Bell  Inn  on  December  16th,  O.S. 
(December  27th,  N.S.),  1714.  Some  time  about  Christmas, 
1 7 16,  the  father  died,  and  his  fair-haired  little  boy  was  left 
without  one  remembrance  of  him.  The  mother  had  a  tender, 
faithful  heart,  commendable  prudence,  a  great  desire  for  the 
welfare  of  her  children,  and  much  willingness  to  deny  herself 

2  l 


2  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

for  their  sakes.  George  always  held  her  in  reverent  affection. 
With  the  fondness  of  a  mother  for  her  last-born,  she  used  to 
tell  him  that,  even  when  he  was  an  infant,  she  always  expected 
more  comfort  from  him  than  from  any  other  of  her  children. 

Only  one  event  of  Whitefield's  early  childhood  is  on  record. 
When  he  was  about  four  years  of  age  he  had  the  measles,  and 
through  the  ignorance  or  neglect  of  his  nurse  the  disease  left 
one  of  his  eyes — dark  blue  they  were,  and  lively — with  a 
squint,  which,  however,  is  said  not  to  have  marred  the  extreme 
sweetness  of  his  countenance,  nor  diminished  the  charm  of  his 
glance.     That  defective  eye  obtained  for  him  in  later  years 

\  i  among  scoffers  and  railers  the  nickname  of  '  Dr.  Squintum.' 
Circumstances  were  not  very  favourable  to  the  formation  of 
a  noble  character  in  the  boy.  He  says  that  he  'soon  gave 
pregnant  proofs  of  an  impudent  temper.'  He  fell  into  some 
of  the  worst  of  juvenile  sins  ;  occasionally  he  transgressed  in  a 
more  marked  way.  As  Augustine  deceived  his  tutor,  masters, 
and  parents  with  falsehoods,  so  that  he  might  get  off  to  shows 
and  plays,  and  also  committed  thefts  from  his  parents'  cellar 
and  table,  so  Whitefield  stained  his  childhood  with  lying,  evil- 
speaking,  and  petty  thefts,  which  he  perpetrated  on  his  mother 
by  taking  money  out  of  her  pocket  before  she  was  up ;  this  he 

'  thought,  at  the  time,  was  no  theft  at  all.  He  also  says  that  he 
spent  much  money  '  in  plays,  and  in  the  common  entertain- 
ments of  the  age.'  Playing  at  cards  and  reading  romances 
were  his  '  heart's  delight.'  Sabbath-breaking  was  a  common 
sin,  and  he  generally  behaved  irreverently  at  public  worship, 
when  he  was  present.  As  might  be  expected,  he  was  fond  of 
playing  wild,  roguish  tricks,  such  as  running  into  the  Dissenting 
meeting-house,  and  shouting  the  name  of  the  learned  and 
devoted  minister — '  Old  Cole  !  old  Cole  !  old  Cole  ! '  Being 
asked,  one  day,  by  one  of  Cole's  congregation,  of  what  business 
he  meant  to  be,  he  replied,  'A  minister;  but  I  would  take 


EARLY  FAULTS  AND   SINS  3 

good  care  never  to  tell  stories  in  the  pulpit  like  the  old  Cole.' 
A  wild,  merry  lad  he  was,  with  no  restraint  upon  him,  except- 
ing a  wise  regulation  of  his  mother,  by  which  he  was  not 
allowed  to  take  any  part  in  the  business,  although  he  did 
sometimes  sell  odd  quantities  over  the  counter  and  wrongfully 
keep  the  money ;  overflowing  with  animal  spirits,  which  often 
led  him  into  mischief,  in  the  execution  of  which  his  power  of 
concealment  so  signally  failed  him  that  he  was  always  detected. 
'  It  would  be  endless,'  he  says,  '  to  recount  the  sins  and  offences 
of  my  younger  days.'  But  why  he  should,  in  later  years,  have 
classed  his  '  roguish  tricks '  with  graver  faults  is  not  clear. 
They  may  really  have  been  worse  than  simple  fun,  or  his 
conscience  may  have  become  morbidly  sensitive  and  in- 
tolerant, even  of  play,  probably  the  latter.  But  there  were  / 
other  forces  working  in  his  impetuous,  fiery  spirit.  Good 
thoughts  struggled  with  sinful  ones ;  conscience  failed  not  to 
'  f  rebuke  him  for  his  faults,  and  smite  him  with  heavy  blows. 
A  grotesque  caricature  of  a  saint  sprung  out  of  the  contention. 
He  would  not  be  bad,  neither  would  he  be  thoroughly  good. 
He  compromised ;  he  tried  to  blend  light  and  darkness;  he 
feared  God,  and  loved  sin.  Some  of  the  money  stolen  from 
his  mother  was  devoted  to  higher  ends  than  buying  tarts  and 
fruits — it  was  given  to  the  poor !  His  thefts  were  not  confined 
to  raids  upon  his  mother's  pocket  and  till,  but  extended  to 
property  outside  the  Bell  Inn  ;  but  then  he  stole  books — 
afterwards  restored  fourfold — and  they  were  books  of  devotion  ! 
The  Bible  was  not  unknown  to  him,  any  more  than  a  romance ; 
but  it  was  as  much  the  book  of  his  curses  as  of  his  prayers. 
His  quick  temper — he  was  hasty  tempered  to  the  last — sought 
expression  for  itself  in  the  imprecatory  Psalms,  as  well  as  in 
vulgar  cursing.  The  burden  of  the  11 8th  Psalm  was  familiar  to 
him  ;  and  once,  when  he  had  been  teased  by  some  persons  who 
'took  a  constant  pleasure  in  exasperating  him,  he  immediately 


4  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

retired  to  his  room,  and,  kneeling  down,  with  many  tears, 
prayed  the  whole  Psalm  over,  finding  relief  to  his  feelings  in 
the  terrible  refrain  of  the  tenth,  eleventh,  and  twelfth  verses — 
1  But  in  the  name  of  the  Lord,  I  will  destroy  them.'  Church 
might  be  a  place  for  irreverence,  and  the  service  a  thing  to  be 
mocked  at ;  yet  he  was  always  fond  of  being  a  clergyman,  and 
frequently  imitated  the  minister's  reading  prayers. 

All  the  man  can  be  traced  in  the  boy — delight  in  the 
emotional  and  exciting,  a  ready  power  of  appropriating  and 
applying  to  himself  and  to  his  enemies  the  words  of  Scripture, 
fondness  for  using  his  elocution,  and  aptness  of  imitation. 
And  a  strange  contrast,  as  well  as  resemblance,  is  there 
between  the  man  and  the  boy,  when  they  are  placed  side  by 
side  in  St.  Mary  de  Crypt,  Gloucester.  In  the  church  where 
the  infant  was  baptized  and  the  boy  often  mocked,  the  deacon 
of  twenty-one  preached  his  first  sermon  to  a  crowded  audience. 

When  he  was  ten  years  old  his  mother  married  a  second 
time,  her  husband  being  Mr.  Longden,  an  ironmonger  of 
Gloucester.  Whitefield  says  that  it  was  'an  unhappy  match 
as  for  temporals,  but  God  overruled  it  for  good.  It  set  my 
brethren  upon  thinking  more  than  otherwise  they  would  have 
done,  and  made  an  uncommon  impression  upon  my  own  heart 
in  particular.' 

At  the  age  of  twelve  he  was  placed  at  the  school  of  St. 
Mary  de  Crypt,  'the  last  grammar  school,'  he  says,  'I  ever 
went  to  ; '  from  which  we  may  suppose  that  he  had  tried  not 
a  few  schools  before.  The  last  school  changed  him  not  a 
whit  in  his  earliest  characteristics.  Plays  still  fascinated  him  ; 
and,  if  he  did  not  read  them  in  school,  when  he  was  there — 
and  it  is  very  probable  that  he  did — he  spent  whole  days  away 
from  school  studying  them,  and  preparing  to  act  them.  His 
enthusiasm  for  acting  spread  to  his  schoolfellows  ;  and  the 
master,    either   because   he    sympathised    with    his    scholars' 


AT  SCHOOL  5 

tastes,  or  thought  it  useless  to  resist  them,  not  only  composed 
plays  for  the  school,  but  had  a  theatrical  entertainment  for  the 
corporation  on  their  annual  visitation,  young  Whitefield  being, 
on  one  occasion,  dressed  in  girls'  clothes  to  act  before  them. 
The  annual  oration  before  these  visitors  was  also  commonly 
entrusted  to  the  boy  from  '  the  Bell ' ;  and  his  good  memory 
and  fine  elocution  won  him  much  notice.  A  lively  school 
must  St.  Mary  de  Crypt  have  been  while  this  vivacious  scholar 
sat  on  its  benches — the  master  writing  plays,  the  boys  learning 
them,  and  the  worthy  city  aldermen  seeing  them  acted. 

Whitefield  has  given  an  opinion  upon  his  education.  He 
says : — 

'  I  cannot  but  observe,  with  much  concern  of  mind,  how  this  training  up 
of  youth  has  a  natural  tendency  to  debauch  the  mind,  to  raise  ill  passions, 
and  to  stuff  the  memory  with  things  as  contrary  to  the  gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ  as  light  to  darkness,  heaven  to  hell.  However,  though  the  first 
thing  I  had  to  repent  of  was  my  education  in  general,  yet  I  must  always 
acknowledge  that  my  particular  thanks  are  due  to  my  master  for  the  great 

,    pains  he  took  with  me  and  his  other  scholars  in  teaching  us  to  write  and 

I    speak  correctly.' 

The  future  saint  and  preacher  was  still  indicated  amid  all 
this  mirth.  Part  of  the  money  received  for  his  good  acting 
.<•  and  reciting  was  spent  upon  '  Ken's  Manual  for  Winchester 
Scholars,'  a  book  which  had  affected  him  much  when  his 
brother  used  to  read  it  in  his  mother's  troubles,  and  which, 
for  some  time  after  he  bought  it,  'was  of  great  use  to  his  soul.' 
Before  he  was  fifteen  he  longed  to  be  free  even  from  the 
mild  discipline  of  his  last  grammar  school ;  and  by  pressing 
his  mother  with  the  sage  argument  that,  since  she  could  not 
send  him  to  the  University,  and  as  more  learning  might  spoil 
him  for  a  tradesman,  it  would  be  best  for  him  to  halt  at  his 
present  attainments,  he  got  his  own  way  on  all  points  but  one 
—  he    must    go    to    school    every    day    for    a    writing    lesson. 


6  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Adverse  circumstances  soon  compelled  the  discontinuance  of 
the  solitary  lesson,  and  the  lad  of  fifteen  had  to  take — on  his 
part,  apparently,  with  some  little  regret,  but  with  commend- 
able industry — to  the  dress  and  work  of  a  common  drawer  in 
his  mother's  inn.  She  who  had  hitherto  been  so  jealous  over 
her  son's  associations  must  have  been  hard  pressed  with 
poverty  before  consenting  to  such  a  step.  Nor  was  the  boy 
unaffected  by  the  family  misfortune.  His  honour  prompted 
him  to  be  of  use,  and  to  shun  the  greater  contempt  of  being  a 
burden,  by  enduring  the  lesser  shame  of  wearing  a  blue  apron 
and  washing  mops  and  cleaning  rooms.  His  religious  ten- 
dencies were  strengthened  by  frequent  reading  of  the  Bible 
at  the  close  of  his  day's  work ;  indeed,  he  would  sit  up  to  read 
it.  Sometimes  the  care  of  the  whole  house  came  upon  him ; 
but  still  he  found  time  to  compose  two  or  three  sermons,  one 
of  which  he  dedicated  to  his  elder  brother.  The  first  lessons 
of  experience  were  being  wrought  into  the  heart  of  a  quick 
learner,  whose  waywardness  was  receiving  its  first  stern  rebuke. 
The  work  of  the  inn  made  him  long  for  school  again,  but  his 
sense  of  filial  duty  never  suffered  him  to  be  idle,  even  in  a 
calling  which  he  disliked.  Tin;  sight  of  the  boys  going  to 
school  often  cut  him  to  the  heart ;  and  to  a  companion,  who 
frequently  came  entreating  him  to  go  to  Oxford,  his  general 
answer  was,  '  I  wish  I  could.' 

A  year  later  his  mother  was  obliged  to  leave  the  inn  ;  then 
a  married  brother,  '  who  had  been  bred  up  to.  the  business,' 
took  it;  and  to  him  George  became  an  assistant.  The 
brothers  agreed  well  enough.  Not  so  the  brother-in-law  and 
sister-in-law.  For  three  weeks  together  George  would  not 
speak  a  word  to  her.  He  was  wretched,  and  much  to  blame  ; 
and  at  length,  thinking  that  his  absence  would  make  all 
things  easy,  and  being  advised  so  by  his  mother  and  brother, 
he   went    to   Bristol    to    see    one    of   his   brothers.     This,  he 


TRANSIENT  EXPERIENCES  7 

thinks,  was  God's  way  of  'forcing  him  out  of  the  public  busi- 
ness, and  calling  him  from  drawing  wine  for  drunkards  to 
draw  water  out  of  the  wells  of  salvation  for  the  refreshment  of 
His  spiritual  Israel.' 

At  Bristol  he  experienced  the  first  of  those  rapturous  feel- 
ings with  which,  a  few  years  later,  his  soul  became  absolutely 
penetrated  and  possessed,  then  refined  and  gloriously  illumi- 
nated, and  in  which  it  was  finally  sacrificed  to  God  his 
Saviour.  From  the  first  it  was  no  weakness  of  his  to  feel 
with  half  his  heart :  'with  all  thy  soul  and  mind  and  strength' 
was  to  him  an  easy  condition  of  religious  feeling  and  activity. 
He  now  had  much  sensible  devotion,  and  was  filled  with 
'unspeakable  raptures,'  sometimes  'carried  out  beyond  him- 
self.' He  longed  after  the  sacrament ;  he  pondered  the 
'Imitation  of  Christ,'  and  delighted  in  it;  he  was  all  impa- 
tience to  hear  the  church  bell  calling  him  to  worship  ;  his 
former  employment  dissatisfied  him,  and  he  often  wrote  to  his 
mother,  telling  her  he  would  never  return  to  it.  Yet  with  all 
his  fervour  his  heart  knew  not  'the  peace  of  God  which 
passeth  all  understanding ; '  something  secretly  whispered, 
'  this  will  not  last ; '  and  it  is  not  from  this  time  that  he  dates 
his  conversion.  He  admits  that  God  was  in  the  tumult  of 
devotion,  but  not  as  he  afterwards  knew  Him — the  God  of 
peace  and  rest  and  love. 

Two  short  months  sufficed  to  end  the  spiritual  fever.  Pro- 
bably it  would  have  left  him  had  he  continued  at  Bristol,  but 
its  decline  he  ascribes  to  his  return  home.  Once  among  his 
old  associations  his  delight  in  churchgoing  and  in  prayer 
ceased ;  the  only  remnant  of  good  he  retained  was  his  resolu- 
tion not  to  live  in  the  inn,  and  no  doubt  his  firmness  on  this 
point  was  mainly  due  to  his  antipathy  to  his  sister-in-law  and 
to  his  love  for  his  mother,  who,  with  true  motherly  affection, 
welcomed  him  to  the  best  she  could  give  him — her  own  fare 


8  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

and  a  bed  upon  the  floor.  His  old  love  for  play-reading 
revived  again  ;  his  vanity  made  him  more  careful  to  '  adorn  his 
body  than  deck  and  beautify  his  soul';  his  former  school- 
fellows, whom  he  had  done  his  share  in  misleading,  now  did 
theirs  in  misleading  him. 

'  But  God,'  he  says,  speaking  in  harmony  with  those  Cal- 
vinistic  views  which  he  afterwards  adopted,  'whose  gifts  and  ^ 
callings  are  without  repentance,  would  let  nothing  pluck  me 
out  of  His  hands,  though  I  was  continually  doing  despite  to 
the  Spirit  of  grace.  He  saw  me  with  pity  and  compassion, 
when  lying  in  my  blood.  He  passed  by  me ;  He  said  unto 
me,  "  Live,"  and  even  gave  me  some  foresight  of  His  providing 
for  me.  One  morning,  as  I  was  reading  a  play  to  my  sister, 
said  I,  "  Sister,  God  intends  something  for  me  that  we  know 
not  of.  As  I  have  been  diligent  in  business  I  believe  many 
would  gladly  have  me  for  an  apprentice ;  but  every  way  seems 
to  be  barred  up,  so  that  I  think  God  will  provide  for  me  some 
way  or  other  that  we  cannot  apprehend." ' 

The  deterioration  of  character  which  must  have  resulted 
from  his  being  without  employment,  and  without  any  purposes 
for  the  future,  was  happily  averted  by  an  accidental  visit  paid 
to  his  mother  by  one  of  his  former  schoolfellows,  now  a  ser- 
vitor at  Pembroke  College,  Oxford.  When  it  was  incidentally 
mentioned  in  the  conversation  that  the  visitor  had  paid  his 
last  quarter's  expenses  and  received  a  penny,  Mrs.  Whitefield 
eagerly  caught  at  the  news,  and  cried  out,  '  This  will  do  for  my 
son ; '  and  turning  to  George  she  said,  '  Will  you  go  to 
Oxford,  George?'  He  replied,  'With  all  my  heart.'  Appli- 
cation was  at  once  made  for  the  help  of  the  kind  friends  who 
had  aided  their  visitor,  and  mother  and  son  were  soon 
rejoiced  to  know  that  interest  would  be  used  to  secure  George 
a  servitor's  place  in  Pembroke  College. 

His   learning,   such   as   it  was,    had   not  been  kept  bright 


REFORM  A  TION  9 

during  his  service  in  the  inn,  his  visit  to  Bristol,  and  his  idle 
time  under  his  mother's  roof,  and  so  the  genial  schoolmaster 
had  to  be  applied  to  again  to  take  back  his  former  pupil.  He 
gladly  consented,  and  this  time  the  pupil,  animated  by  the 
hope  of  gaining  an  honourable  object,  worked  diligently  and 
successfully.  At  first  his  morality  and  religion  were  not 
improved  equally  with  his  learning.  A  knot  of  debauched  and 
atheistical  youths — their  atheism  probably  founded  on  their^ 
immorality  which  did  not  like  to  retain  the  knowledge  of  God — 
succeeded  in  inveigling  him.  His  thoughts  about  religion 
grew  more  and  more  like  theirs  ;  he  reasoned  that  if  God  had 
given  him  passions,  it  must  be  to  gratify  them.  He  affected  to 
look  rakish,  and  when  he  went  to  public  service  it  was  only  to 
sport  and  walk  about.     Twice  or  thrice  he  got  drunk. 

Then  a  reforming  impulse  came  upon  him,  and  upon  infor- 
mation given  by  him  to  his  master  of  the  principles  and 
practices  of  his  companions,  their  proceedings  were  stopped. 
Efforts  after  a  better  life,  relapses  into  sin,  meditations  upon 
serious  books,  particularly  Drelincourt's  '  The  Christian's 
Defence  against  the  Fears  of  Death,'  dutiful  service  done  for 
his  mother,  and,  finally,  a  firm  resolution  to  prepare  for  taking 
the  sacrament  on  his  seventeenth  birthday,  marked  his  moral 
history  at  school  for  the  first  twelve  months. 

Strange  fancies  now  began  to  flit  through  his  mind.  Once 
he  dreamed  that  he  was  to  see  God  on  Mount  Sinai,  and  was 
afraid  to  meet  Him — a  circumstance  which  impressed  him 
deeply;  and  when  he  told  it  to  a  'gentlewoman,'  she  said, 
'  George,  this  is  a  call  from  God.'  He  grew  more  serious,  and 
his  looks — such,  he  says,  was  his  '  hypocrisy  ' — were  more 
grave  than  the  feelings  behind  them.  The  gentlewoman's 
words  also  helped  to  increase  his  impressionableness,  and  it  is 
not  surprising  to  learn  that  '  one  night,  as  he  was  going  on  an 
errand   for   his  mother,    an    unaccountable    but   very    strong 


io  GEORGE   WHI'IEFIELD 

impression  was  made  upon  his  heart  that  he  should  preach 
quickly.'  It  is  as  little  surprising  that  his  mother,  upon  hear- 
ing from  him  what  had  come  into  his  mind,  should  have  turned 
shortupon  him,  crying  out,  'What  does  the  boy  mean?  Prithee, 
hold  thy  tongue.' 

He  resumed,  though  in  a  much  more  sober  way,  the  reli- 
gious practices  of  his  Bristol  life.  A  rebuke  administered  to 
him  by  one  of  his  brothers,  who  had  begun  to  regard  his 
alternations  from  saint  to  sinner  and  sinner  to  saint  as  pain- 
fully regular,  did  him  much  good,  by  checking  his  spiritual 
pride  and  by  increasing  his  self-distrust  and  watchfulness.  His 
brother  told  him  plainly — the  Whitefields  were  an  outspoken 
family — that  he  feared  the  new  zeal  would  not  last  long,  not 
through  the  temptations  of  Oxford.  Perhaps  his  prophecy 
might  have  been  fulfilled  had  he  not  spoken  it. 

Whitefield  went  to  Oxford  in  1732,  when  he  was  nearly 
eighteen  years  old.  Some  ot  his  friends,  as  promised,  used  their 
influence  with  the  master  of  Pembroke  College ;  another  friend 
lent  him  ten  pounds  upon  a  bond,  to  defray  the  expense  of 
entering ;  while  the  master  admitted  him  as  a  servitor  imme- 
diately. Once  within  the  college  walls  he  was  not  the  lad  to 
play  with  his  chance  of  success.  His  humble  station  had  no 
thorns  for  his  pride.  To  be  a  servitor  was  no  new  thing  ; 
perhaps  he  felt  himself  advanced  by  having  his  fellow-students 
to  wait  upon,  instead  of  boors  and  drunkards.  Pembroke 
College  was  far  before  the  Bell  Inn,  both  for  reputation  and 
society  ;  and  then,  was  there  not  before  the  eye  of  the  young 
student  the  prospect  of  an  honourable  and  useful  station  in 
life  ?  Might  he  not,  at  the  least,  become  an  ordinary  clergyman 
in  his  Church  ?  Might  he  not  pass  beyond  that,  and  attain  to 
the  dignity  of  a  very  reverend,  or  perhaps  of  a  right  reverend  ? 
There  might  be  present  indignity  in  his  position,  as  there 
certainly  was  nothing  ennobling  in  it,  yet  he  would  not  impa- 


AS  SERVITOR  u 

tiently  and  with  silly  haughtiness  throw  away  future  honour  by 
discarding  humble  work.  He  may  have  been  rather  too 
destitute  of  that  high-spiritedness  which  made  Johnson,  not 
many  weeks  before  Whitefield's  coming  to  Pembroke,  throw 
away  a  pair  of  shoes  which  gentle  kindness  had  placed  at  his 
door  ;  indeed,  an  equal  division  of  their  respective  qualities  of 
pride  and  humbleness  between  the  two  students  might  have 
been  an  advantage  to  both. 

The  young  servitor  lightened  the  burden  of  friends  who 
stood  as  his  money  securities,  toiled  at  his  classics,  adhered  to 
his  late  religious  practices  at  the  grammar  school,  and  thus  laid 
a  good  foundation  for  a  manly  life.  Law's  '  Serious  Call  to  a 
Devout  Life,'  which  had  already  '  overmatched '  Johnson  and 
made  him  '  think  in  earnest  of  religion,'  and  his  treatise  on 
'Christian  Perfection,'  were  the  means  of  stirring  still  more 
profoundly  the  already  excited  mind  of  Whitefield.  Standing 
aloof  from  the  general  body  of  students,  resisting  the  solicita- 
tions of  many  who  lay  in  the  same  room  with  him,  and  who 
'would  have  drawn  him  into  excess  of  riot,'  and  practising  daily 
devotions  with  the  regularity  of  a  monk,  what  wonder  that  he 
was  soon  thrown  amongst  the  '  Methodists,'  who  were  begin- 
ning their  new  life,  and  whom  he  had  always  defended,  even 
before  he  came  to  Oxford,  or  knew  them  ?  If  there  was  spiri- 
tual life  in  the  University,  how  could  one  who  had  so  strangely, 
though  ofttimes  so  inconsistently,  followed  prayer,  meditation, 
sermon-writing,  almsgiving;  and  public  worship,  fail  to  feel  its 
touch  and  answer  to  its  call  ?  It  was  inevitable  that  the 
servitor,  who  had  come  to  be  looked  upon  as  a  '  singular,  odd 
fellow,'  notwithstanding  all  his  merits,  should  turn  Methodist ; 
and  accordingly  he  joined  the  band  of  devout  young  men 
some  time  between  hiS  nineteenth  and  twentieth  year,  after  his 
'  soul  had  longed  for  above  a  twelvemonth  to  be  acquainted 
with  them.' 


12  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

The  first  Methodists  were  John  and  Charles  Wesley,  Mr. 
Morgan,  commoner  of  Christ  Church,  and  Mr.  Kirkham,  of 
Merton  College  ;  but  the  nickname  was  fastened  on  the  little 
company  while  John  was  in  Lincolnshire,  assisting  his  father, 
the  rector  of  Epworth.  When  he  returned  to  Oxford  in  1730 
he  took  his  brother  Charles's  place  at  the  head  of  the  band, 
and  became  for  ever  after  the  chief  figure  of  Methodism. 
University  wits  called  him  the  '  Father  of  the  Holy  Club.' 
When  Whitefield  joined  the  Methodists,  which  was  about  the 
end  of  1734  or  early  in  1735,  they  were  fifteen  in  number, 
and  included  Mr.  Benjamin  Ingham,  of  Queen's  College  ;  Mr. 
T.  Broughton,  of  Exeter ;  and  Mr.  James  Hervey,  of  Lincoln 
College ;  and  it  was  in  this  wise  he  joined  them.  Wesley  and 
his  associates  were  marked  men.  Their  austerities,  their 
devoutness,  and  their  charitable  labours  among  the  poor, 
attracted  general  attention ;  and  on  their  way  to  St.  Mary's 
every  week  to  receive  the  sacrament  they  had  to  pass  through 
a  crowd  of  ridiculing  students,  congregated  to  insult  them. 
The  sight  of  this  shameful  insolence  awakened  his  sympathy, 
moved  his  courage,  and  prepared  him  to  take  up  his  cross. 
He  often  saw  the  persecution  endured  by  the  few,  and  never 
without  wishing  to  follow  their  brave  example.  An  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  acquainted  with  them  offered  itself.  A 
poor  woman  in  one  of  the  workhouses  made  an  unsuccessful 
attempt  to  commit  suicide  ;  and  Whitefield,  aware  of  Charles 
Wesley's  readiness  for  every  good  work,  sent  a  message  to  him 
by  an  apple  woman  of  Pembroke,  asking  him  to  visit  her. 
The  messenger  was,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  charged 
not  to  tell  Wesley  who  had  sent  her.  That  charge  she  broke  ; 
and  Wesley,  who  had  often  met  Whitefield  walking  by  himself, 
pondering  the  deep  things  of  God,  and  was  aware  of  his  pious 
habits,  sent  him  an  invitation  to  come  and  breakfast  with  him 
the  next  morning.     Whitefield  gladly  went,  and  that  morning 


FRIENDSHIP   OF  CHARLES    WESLEY  13 

the  two  students  formed  a  life-long,  honourable  friendship. 
Forty  years  afterwards  Charles  wrote  of  their  meeting  with 
much  tenderness  and  warmth — 

'Can  I  the  memorable  day  forget, 
When  first  we  by  Divine  appointment  met? 
Where  undisturbed  the  thoughtful  student  roves, 
In  search  of  truth,  through  academic  groves ; 
A  modest,  pensive  youth,  who  mused  alone, 
Industrious  the  frequented  path  to  shun. 
An  Israelite,  without  disguise  or  art, 
I  saw,  I  loved,  and  clasped  him  to  my  heart, 
A  stranger  as  my  bosom  friend  caressed, 
And  unawares  received  an  angel-guest.' 

Charles  Wesley  put  into  the  hands  of  his  guest  Professor 
Francke's  treatise  against  the  'Fear  of  Man,'  and  the  '  Country 
Parson's  Advice  to  his  Parishioners.'  Whitefield  then  took  his 
departure. 

The  most  interesting  part  of  the  spiritual  life  of  Whitefield 
begins  at  this  point,  up  to  which  there  has  been  an  uncertain, 
varying  war  carried  on  against  sin,  coupled  with  many 
defeated  attempts  to  attain  to  a  severe  form  of  external  piety. 
After  the  period  just  to  be  opened  to  our  view  he  never 
becomes  entangled  in  doubts  concerning  the  Divine  method 
of  saving  sinners,  and  never  hesitates  between  rival  plans  of 
practical  living.  He  tried  all  the  three  great  plans  of  being  a 
Christian  and  of  serving  God  which  have  gained  favour  with 
large  sections  of  mankind  ;  and  finding  satisfaction  in  the  one 
which  he  ultimately  adopted,  he  felt  no  temptation  ever  after- 
wards to  leave  it.  Already,  as  we  have  seen,  he  has  had  large 
experience  of  the  effects  upon  conscience  and  heart  of  the 
method  which  theologians  call  '  salvation  by  works  ; '  and  yet 
he  is  neither  at  peace  with  God,  nor  established  in  a  godly 
life.     He  is  more  satisfied  that  he  is  on  the  right  track,  and 


14  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

his  resolutions  to  be  outwardly  holy  have  stood  a  good  trial ; 
but  he  is  still  asking  and  seeking. 

While  in  this  state  of  mind  Charles  Wesley  both  helped  and 
hindered  him — helped  him  with  his  books,  and  hindered  him 
by  his  example,  which  was  that  of  an  honest,  anxious  mind, 
ignorant  of  the  salvation  which  comes  by  faith  in  the  Son  of 
God.  The  great  Methodist,  his  '  never-to-be-forgotten  '  friend, 
as  Whitefield  affectionately  calls  him,  brought  him  within  sight 
of  the  '  fulness  of  the  blessing  of  the  gospel  of  Christ,'  and  then 
led  him  down  a  by-path,  which  brought  him  to  the  low  levels 
of  Quietism,  where  he  nearly  perished.  Charles  Wesley  did 
not  conduct  him  thus  far,  and  never  intended  to  set  him  in 
that  direction ;  it  was  '  the  blind  leading  the  blind.'  The 
pupil,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  was  the  first  to  become  a  safe 
teacher ;  he  knew  '  the  liberty  of  the  sons  of  God,'  while  the 
Wesleys  were  struggling  in  chains  he  had  broken. 

Shortly  after  the  memorable  breakfast,  Charles  lent  him  a 
little  book  entitled  '  The  Life  of  God  in  the  Soul  of  Man,'  by 
the  Rev.  Henry  Scougal,  M.A.,  which  created  no  small  wonder 
within  him  by  teaching  '  that  some  falsely  placed  religion  in 
going  to  church,  doing  hurt  to  no  one,  being  constant  in  the 
duties  of  the  closet,  and  now  and  then  reaching  out  their  hands 
to  give  alms  to  their  poor  neighbours.'  The  positive  teaching 
of  the  book  filled  him  with  unspeakable  joy.  Whenjie.xead 
'  that  true  religion  is  a  union  of  the  soul  with  God,  or  Christ 
formed  within  us,  a  ray  of  Divine  light  instantaneously  darted  in 
upon  his-soul,  and  from  that  moment,  but  not  till  then,  did  he 
know  that  he  must  be  a  new  creature.'  The  doctrine  of  the 
new  birth,  a  birth  which  he  had  now  experienced  in  his  own 
soul,  became  one  of  the  main  themes  of  his  preaching  to  the 
end  of  his  life. 

Charles  Wesley  now  introduced  him  'by  degrees  to  the  rest 
of  the  Methodists,'  and  the  introduction  led  him  to  adopt  the 


LIVING   BY  RULE  15 

whole  of  their  plan  of  living.  To  live  by  rule  was  the  funda- 
mental principle  of  their  theology,  for  as  yet  they  knew 
nothing  of  the  mighty  power  of  joy  and  peace  which  come 
through  believing  upon  the  name  of  Jesus.  Thus  Whitefield 
was  led  astray  from  the  scriptural  truth  which  had  poured  light 
into  his  understanding,  and  gladness  into  his  heart,  and  once 
more  tried,  though  this  time  more  inflexibly  and  more 
thoroughly,  his  old  scheme  of  salvation  by  works.  It  seemed 
as  if,  like  Luther,  he  must  know  all  that  he  could  do  and  all 
that  he  could  not  do  before  he  could  '  count  all  things  but 
loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus.'  The 
redemption  of  time  became  a  primary  virtue,  and  he  hoarded 
his  moments  as  if  they  were  years.  Whether  he  ate,  or  drank, 
or  whatever  he  did,  he  endeavoured  to  do  all  to  the  glory  of 
God.  The  sacrament  was  received  every  Sunday  at  Christ 
Church.  Fasting  was  practised  on  Wednesday  and  Friday. 
Sick  persons  and  prisoners  were  visited,  and  poor  people  were 
read  to.     An  hour  every  day  was  spent  in  acts  of  charity. 

His  studies  were  soon  affected  by  his  morbid  state  of  mind, 
for  such  a  system  as  he  was  living  under  allowed  its  faithful 
disciple  no  room  for  change  or  diversion.  Every  hour 
brought  round  a  weary  step  of  the  moral  treadmill,  which  must 
be  taken,  or  conscience  would  be  bruised  or  wounded ;  and 
Whitefield  had  suffered  enough  from  conscience  to  feel  a 
quivering  fear  of  its  pains.  No  books  would  now  please  his 
disordered  taste  but  such  as  '  entered  into  the  heart  of  religion 
and  led  him  directly  into  an  experimental  knowledge  of  Jesus 
Christ  and  Him  crucified.'  How  he  came  to  write  these 
words,  which  are  quoted  from  his  journal,  it  would  be  hard  to 
say.  When  he  wrote  them  he  must  have  known  that  it  was 
the  lack  of  the  knowledge  of  Jesus  which  had  made  him  a 
slave. 

Once  fully  and  openly  connected  with  the  '  Holy  Club,'  he 


1 6  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

had  soon  to  share  in  its  troubles.  '  Polite  students '  shot 
barbed  words  at  him,  mean  ones  withdrew  their  pay  from  him, 
and  brutal  ones  threw  dirt  at  him.  Friends  became  shy.  The 
master  of  the  college  rebuked  him,  and  threatened  to  expel 
him.  Daily  contempt  was  poured  upon  him.  His  tutor  alone 
forbore  to  torment  him.  At  first  he  did  not  accept  his 
reproach  calmly ;  it  shook  his  feeble  strength.  When  he 
went  to  St.  Mary's,  for  the  first  time,  to  receive  the 
sacrament  publicly  on  a  week-day  —  sure  sign  to  all  the 
University  that  he  had  'commenced  Methodist' — 'Mr.  Charles 
Wesley,'  he  says,  '  whom  I  must  always  mention  with  the 
greatest  deference  and  respect,  walked  with  me  from  the 
church  even  to  the  college.  I  confess  to  my  shame  I  would 
gladly  have  excused  him  ;  and  the  next  day,  going  to  his 
room,  one  of  our  fellows  passing  by,  I  was  ashamed  to  be  seen 
to  knock  at  his  door.'  The  displeasure  of  the  master  of  his 
college,  and  the  master's  threat  to  expel  him  if  he  ever  visited 
the  poor  again,  surprised  him,  as  well  it  might.  '  Overawed,' 
he  says,  '  by  the  master's  authority,  I  spoke  unadvisedly  with 
my  lips,  and  said,  if  it  displeased  him,  I  would  not.  My 
conscience  soon  pricked  me  for  this  sinful  compliance.  I 
immediately  repented,  and  visited  the  poor  the  first  oppor- 
tunity, and  told  my  companions  if  ever  I  was  called  to  a  stake 
for  Christ's  sake,  I  would  serve  my  tongue  as  Archbishop 
Cranmer  served  his  hand,  viz.,  make  that  burn  first.'  His  fear 
of  man  gradually  wore  off,  and  he  '  confessed  the  Methodists 
more  and  more  publicly  every  day,'  walking  openly  with  them, 
and  choosing  rather  to  bear  contempt  with  them  than  'to 
enjoy  the  applause  of  almost  Christians  for  a  season.' 

The  advantage  of  his  trials  was  that  they  inured  him  to 
contempt,  of  which  he  was  to  get  a  full  share,  and  lessened 
his  self-love.  His  inward  sufferings  were  also  of  an  uncommon 
kind,  Satan  seeming  to  desire  to  sift  him  like  wheat  j  and  the 


SPIRITUAL   CONFLICTS  17 

reason  for  this,  Whitefield  thinks,  was  to  prevent  his  future 
blessings  from  proving  his  ruin.  All  along  he  had  an  intense 
desire,  a  hungering  and  thirsting,  after  the  humility  of  Jesus 
Christ.  Imagining  that  it  would  be  instantaneously  infused 
into  his  soul,  he  prayed  night  and  day  to  receive  it.  '  But  as 
Gideon,'  he  says,  'taught  the  men  of  Succoth  with  thorns,  so 
God — if  I  am  yet  in  any  measure  blessed  with  poverty  of 
spirit — taught  it  me  by  the  exercise  of  true,  strong  temptations.' 
The  strong  temptations  came  in  reality  from  his  mistaken 
though  eagerly  accepted  views  of  religion,  his  incessant  self- 
inspection,  his  moral  police  regulations,  his  abstinence  from  all 
change  in  reading,  and  his  daily  persecutions,  the  combined 
influence  of  which  brought  him  into  a  terrible  condition.  A 
horrible  fearfulness  and  dread  overwhelmed  his  soul.  He 
felt  'an  unusual  weight  and  impression,  attended  with  inward 
darkness,'  lie  upon  his  breast ;  and  the  load  increased  until  he 
was  convinced  that  Satan  had  real  possession  of  him,  and  that 
his  body,  like  Job's,  was  given  over  to  the  power  of  the  evil 
one.  All  power  of  meditating,  or  even  thinking,  was  taken 
from  him.     But  let  him  tell  his  own  tale: — 

'  My  memory  quite  failed  me.  My  whole  soul  was  barren  and  dry,  and 
I  could  fancy  myself  to  be  like  nothing  so  much  as  a  man  locked  up  in 
iron  armour.  Whenever  I  kneeled  down  I  felt  great  heavings  in  my  body, 
and  have  often  prayed  under  the  weight  of  them  till  the  sweat  came  through 
me.  At  this  time  Satan  used  to  terrify  me  much  and  threatened  to  punish 
me  if  I  discovered  his  wiles.  It  being  my  duty  as  servitor,  in  my  turn,  to 
knock  at  the  gentlemen's  rooms  by  ten  at  night,  to  see  who  were  in  their 
rooms,  I  thought  the  devil  would  appear  to  me  every  stair  I  went  up. 
And  he  so  troubled  me  when  I  lay  down  to  rest,  that,  for  some  weeks,  I 
scarce  slept  above  three  hours  at  a  time. 

'  God  only  knows  how  many  nights  I  have  lain  upon  my  bed  groaning 
under  the  weight  I  felt,  and  bidding  Satan  depart  from  me  in  the  name  of 
Jesus.  Whole  days  and  weeks  have  I  spent  in  lying  prostrate  on  the 
ground,  and  begging  freedom  from  those  proud,  hellish  thoughts  that  used 
to  crowd  in  upon  and  distract  my  soul.  But  God  made  Satan  drive  out 
Satan.     For  these  thoughts  and  suggestions  created   such  a  self-abhorrence 

3 


\ 


i8  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

within  me,  thai  I  never  ceased  wrestling  with  God  till  He  blessed  me  with 
a  victory  over  them.  Self-love,  self-will,  pride,  and  envy  buffeted  me  in 
their  turns,  that  I  was  resolved  either  to  die  or  conquer.  I  wanted  to  see 
sin  as  it  was,  but  feared,  at  the  same  time,  lest  the  sight  of  it  should  terrify 
me  to  death. 

'  Having  nobody  to  show  me  a  better  way,  I  thought  to  get  peace  and 
purity  by  outward  austerities.  Accordingly,  by  degrees,  I  began  to  leave 
off  eating  fruits  and  such  like,  and  gave  the  money  I  usually  spent  in  that 
way  to  the  poor.  Afterwards  I  always  chose  the  worst  sort  of  food,  though 
my  place  furnished  me  with  variety.  I  fasted  twice  a  week.  My  apparel 
was  mean.  I  thought  it  unbecoming  a  penitent  to  have  his  hair  powdered. 
I  wore  woollen  gloves,  a  patched  gown,  and  dirty  shoes,  and  therefore 
looked  upon  myself  as  very  humble.' 

He  was  exhausting  what  he  calls  '  the  legal  system,' — 
salvation  by  works.  He  felt  pride  creeping  in,  in  spite  of  him, 
behind  every  thought,  word,  and  action  ;  and  he  was  too 
sincere  not  to  admit  that  all  his  labours  must  prove  fruitless 
while  that  remained  unbroken.  Here  Quietism  offered  him 
its  aid.  Whitefield  a  Quietist !  As  easily  change  a  comet 
into  a  fixed  star.  The  power  was  not  in  him  to  dream  sweet 
dreams  of  heaven,  nor  to  swoon  away  in  the  ecstasy  of  a 
mediaeval  saint,  his  '  soul  and  spirit  divided  asunder  as  by  the 
sword  of  the  Spirit  of  God.'  The  definitions,  depths,  and 
stages  of  Quietism  were  not  what  attracted  him  to  his  new 
system  ;  these  were  an  esoteric  doctrine  to  him.  All  that  he 
wanted  was  some  ready  and  satisfactory  method  of  relieving 
his  conscience  of  an  intolerable  burden,  and  of  attaining  to  a 
truly  religious  life  ;  and  reading  one  day  in  Castaniza's 
'Spiritual  Combat,'  '  that  he  that  is  employed  in  mortifying  his 
will  is  as  well  employed  as  though  he  were  converting  Indians,' 
he  set  himself  rudely  to  the  task  of  mortifying  his  will.  He 
began  as  an  Englishman,  with  a  rough,  unsparing  hand  and 
an  honest  heart.  He  sighed  for  no  canonisation,  he  coveted 
no  marvellous  revelations.  To  mortify  his  will  was  all  that  he 
had  to  do,  and  how  else  could  it  be  done  but  by  mortification  ? 


SELF-MORTIFICATION  19 

So  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  study  for  five  or  six  weeks  (only 
attending  to  necessary  college  business),  and  fought  his 
corruptions  by  almost  incessant  prayer.  Extravagance  was 
added  to  extravagance.  The  narrative  of  our  Lord's  tempta- 
tion among  wild  beasts  made  him  think  that  he  ought  to 
expose  himself  to  the  cold  ;  and  at  night,  after  supper,  he 
went  into  Christ  Church  Walk,  knelt  under  a  tree,  and  con- 
tinued in  silent  prayer  until  the  great  bell  rang  and  called  him 
to  his  college.  Mortification  next  required  the  discontinuance 
of  a  diary  which  he  kept,  and  also  abstinence  from  the  use  of 
forms  and  even  of  audible  speech  in  prayer,  and  cessation  from 
works  of  mercy.  Its  inexorable  logic  next  required  that  he 
should  forsake  all  his  friends,  for  is  it  not  written  that  we  are 
'to  leave  all,'  if  we  would  follow  Christ?  and  accordingly, 
instead  of  meeting  with  his  beloved  brethren  on  one  of  their 
weekly  fast-days,  Wednesday,  he  went  into  the  fields  for 
silent  prayer.  The  evening  meeting  also  was  neglected,  and 
on  Thursday  morning  he  did  not  make  his  usual  appearance 
at  Charles  Wesley's  breakfast-table.  This  made  Charles  call 
upon  him  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  and  finding  that  it  was 
morbid  anxiety,  he  counselled  Whitefield  to  seek  spiritual 
direction  from  his  brother  John,  whose  skill  he  thoroughly 
trusted. 

The  spell  of  Quietism  was  broken  ;  it  was  not  potent  enough 
to  hold  such  a  spirit  as  Whitefield's  long  in  bondage,  and 
silence  was  impossible  under  the  interrogations  of  a  loving, 
anxious  friend.  With  wonderful  humility  Whitefield  sought 
the  aid  of  John  Wesley,  who  told  him  that  he  must  resume  all 
his  external  religious  exercises,  but  not  depend  on  them — 
advice  which  might  have  driven  him  mad,  not  a  ray  of  com- 
fort in  it,  not  a  drop  of  the  love  of  God.  And  still  the  bewil- 
dered inquirer,  burdened  with  his  great  sorrow  which  no  man 
could  remove,  attended  diligently  upon  his  teacher  j  and  the 


20  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

teacher,  as  was  natural  to  him,  confidently  undertook  to  guide 
him.  As  they  stand  here  before  our  eye,  one  side  of  each 
character,  unconsciously  displayed  by  that  luminous  sincerity 
which  distinguished  equally  both  these  remarkable  men,  comes 
clearly  and  boldly  into  relief.  The  elder,  while  abounding 
in  some  of  the  divinest  gifts  which  can  adorn  humanity — 
readiness  to  forgive,  patience,  justice — is  confident,  assuming, 
and  gratified  in  being  above  his  fellows ;  the  younger,  while 
restless  with  impetuosity,  impatient,  quick  to  engage  in  conflict 
if  not  first  to  provoke  it,  is  teachable,  reverent,  and  generous  to 
rivals.  The  thought  of  rivalry  between  them  is  yet  unborn;  the 
'  Father  of  the  Holy  Club '  is  instructing  its  youngest  member. 
Wesley  meant  to  do  Whitefield  good  service,  and  partially 
succeeded  when  he  urged  him  to  return  to  '  externals,'  as 
Methodists  called  acts  of  devotion  and  charity.  Only  a  few 
days  after  returning  to  his  duty  amongst  the  poor,  Whitefield 
added  to  the  one  convert,  James  Hervey,  whom  he  had  won, 
two  more,  a  prisoner  and  his  wife,  while  his  own  soul  was 
tormented  and  afflicted. 
^  Lent  soon  came,  and  its  fastings  and  hardships  brought 
Whitefield's  spiritual  conflicts  to  their  fiercest  vigour,  and  then 
to  their  joyful  cessation.  The  externals  of  the  Methodist  rule 
for  this  season  were  duly  observed.  No  meat  was  eaten  by 
the  brethren  except  on  the  Saturday  and  the  Sunday ;  but 
Whitefield  surpassed  them,  and  often  abstained  on  the 
Saturday  ;  and  on  other  days,  Sunday  alone  excepted,  he  lived 
on  sage  tea,  without  sugar,  and  coarse  bread.  In  the  cold 
mornings,  the  biting  east  wind  blowing,  he  walked  out  until 
part  of  one  of  his  hands  became  quite  black.  When  Passion 
Week  came  he  could  scarce  creep  upstairs  for  weakness,  and 
it  then  seemed  to  be  time  to  send  for  his  tutor,  a  kind,  con- 
siderate man,  who  immediately  took  the  common-sense  plan 
of  calling  in  a  doctor. 


SPIRITUAL  FREEDOM  21 

1  Salvation  by  works  '  had  nearly  killed  him  ;  Quietism  had 
nearly  driven  him  mad.  Was  there  not  another  way,  which, 
combining  the  excellences  of  the  two  plans,  might  bring  him 
out  of  darkness  into  God's  marvellous  light  ?  Might  he  not 
render  his  soul  into  the  hands  of  God  as  into  '  the  hands  of  a 
faithful  Creator,'  and  still  devote  himself  with  diligence  to 
'  every  good  word  and  work,'  thus  getting  the  repose  combined 
with  the  activity  which  his  nature  in  a  special  degree  needed  ? 
Both  sides  of  the  spiritual  life  of  man  are  fully  recognised  in 
Holy  Scripture.  '  The  life  of  God '  was  undoubtedly  in  his 
soul,  and  would  have  expanded  rapidly,  imparting  to  him  daily 
joy,  had  he  not  been  told  that  it  must  grow  in  certain  stunted 
forms,  or  it  was  not  of  God  at  all ;  and  the  attempt  to  cripple 
it  produced  an  inevitable  agony.  No  life,  least  of  all  the 
divine  life  of  the  soul,  will  quietly  suffer  its  laws  to  be  violated. 
The  poor  servitor  was  taught  that  truth  in  a  way  never  to  be 
forgotten.  Ever  afterwards  he  was  careful  to  go  whither  the 
Spirit  might  lead  him,  and  hence  his  career  was  free  from  the 
deformities  of  a  forced  asceticism  and  the  vagaries  of  a  wild 
spiritualism.  Not  that  he  did  not  sternly,  sometimes  almost 
cruelly,  deny  his  body  rest  and  comfort,  and  urge  it  on  to 
work  ;  not  that  he  was  without  '  experiences  '  of  spiritual  things 
so  rapturous,  so  excited,  so  absorbing,  that,  compared  with 
them,  the  feelings  and  devotional  exercises  of  most  saints 
appear  tame  and  flat ;  but  there  was  health,  there  was 
naturalness  in  it  all.  His  abounding  labours,  his  'weariness 
and  painfulness,'  were  always  for  the  salvation  of  others,  never 
for  his  own  ;  his  agonies  of  soul  were  like  those  which  the 
apostle  declared  that  he  felt  for  his  brethren — '  a  travailing  in 
birth  until  Christ  should  be  formed  in  their  hearts.' 

Left  alone  in  his  sick-room  he  felt  again  the  blessedness  of 
which  he  had  tasted  one  memorable  draught.  What  book  he 
had  been  reading,  or  what  devotional  exercises  he  had  been 


22  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

engaged  in  when  he  felt  himself  free  again,  does  not  appear. 
He  simply  says — 

'  About  the  end  of  the  seventh  week,  after  having  undergone  innumer- 
able buffetings  of  Satan  and  many  months'  inexpressible  trials  by  night  and 
day  under  the  spirit  of  bondage,  God  was  pleased  at  length  to  remove  the 
heavy  load,  to  enable  me  to  lay  hold  on  His  dear  Son  by  a  living  faith, 
and  by  giving  me  the  spirit  of  adoption,  to  seal  me,  as  I  humbly  hope,  even 
to  the  day  of  everlasting  redemption.' 

Then  catching  fire  at  the  remembrance  of  what  he  had  felt, 
he  exclaims  in  his  journal — 

'  But  oh,  with  what  joy,  joy  unspeakable,  even  joy  that  was  full  of,  and 
hig  with,  glory,  was  my  soul  filled  when  the  weight  of  sin  went  off,  and 
an  abiding  sense  of  the  pardoning  love  of  God  and  a  full  assurance  of 
faith  broke  in  upon  my  disconsolate  soul  !  Surely  it  was  the  day  of  my 
espousals,  a  day  to  be  had  in  everlasting  remembrance.  At  first  my  joys 
were  like  a  spring-tide,  and,  as  it  were,  overflowed  the  banks.  Go  where 
I  would,  I  could  not  avoid  singing  of  Psalms  almost  aloud ;  afterwards  it 
became  more  settled,  and,  blessed  be  God  !  saving  a  few  casual  intervals, 
has  abode  and  increased  in  my  soul  ever  since.' 

Justification  by  faith  had  become  an  experience;  and  he 
henceforth  preached  what  he  had  felt  and  tasted  of  this 
truth. 

Oxford  had  by  this  time  become  a  'sweet  retirement,'  and  it 
was  with  much  reluctance  that,  on  a  partial  recovery,  he  yielded 
to  the  advice  of  his  physician  to  go  to  Gloucester  till  he  should 
be  quite  restored.  Oxford  was  associated  with  his  better  life ; 
Gloucester  with  his  baser  life.  However,  he  determined  either 
'  to  make  or  find  a  friend,'  a  person  of  like  mind  with  himself; 
and  as  soon  as  he  reached  home  he  resolved,  after  impor- 
tunate prayer,  to  go  and  see  an  acquaintance,  evidently  a 
woman  of  literary  tastes  (to  whom  he  had  formerly  read  '  plays, 
Spectators,  Pope's  Homer,  and  such-like  books '),  with  the 
intention  of  winning  her  for  Christ.     '  She  received  the  word 


FIRST  CONVERTS  23 

gladly,  and  soon  became  a  fool  for  Christ's  sake,'  is  his  record 
in  his  journal.  One  friend  was  not  enough.  Others,  young 
persons,  were  brought  under  the  power  of  this  new  teaching, 
and  the  Methodist  Oxonian  soon  repeated  the  Oxford  experi- 
ment, and  gathered  his  converts  into  a  society.  All  had  the 
honour  of  being  despised.  Similar  success  was  not  attained  at 
Bristol,  to  which  he  went  for  three  weeks  ;  his  way  was  hindered 
by  prejudices  against  himself,  and  only  one  young  woman 
became  'obedient  to  the  faith.' 

At  Gloucester  friends  were  lost  and  won.  Some  who  were 
expected  to  give  him  pecuniary  help — he  was  still  a  servitor — 
turned  their  backs  on  him,  and  disappointed  him ;  but  others, 
whom  he  had  accounted  enemies,  though  he  had  never  spoken 
to  them,  became  generous  friends.  It  was  the  time  of  his 
learning  first  lessons  of  trust  in  that  Almighty  Friend  upon 
whose  bountiful  and  loving  care  he  cast  himself  throughout  the 
whole  of  a  poverty-stricken  life,  and  to  whom  he  committed 
many  orphan  children,  the  foundlings  of  his  own  loving  heart. 
He  was  a  philanthropist,  made  by  the  man  Christ  Jesus. 

The  good  Oxford  physician  had  hoped,  by  getting  his  patient 
away  from  the  University,  to  divert  him  from  a  too  intense 
application  to  religion.  Vain  hope  !  The  patient  simply  pur- 
sued, in  the  spirit  of  joyous  liberty,  duties  and  engagements 
which  had  previously  been  an  anxious  burden.  He  cast  aside 
all  other  books,  and,  on  his  bended  knees,  read  and  prayed  over 
the  Holy  Scriptures.  '  Light,  life,  and  power  '  came  upon  him, 
stimulating  him  still  to  search  ;  every  search  brought  treasure  ; 
all  fresh  treasure  caused  fresh  searching.  Experience  confirmed 
his  faith  in  the  doctrine  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  who  was  to  him  a 
living  Comforter,  the  Power  of  God.  He  seemed  filled  with 
the  Spirit  from  the  time  he  was  born  again. 

Another  of  his  characteristics  was  his  capacity  of  deriving 
unfailing  pleasure  from  one  pursuit,  his  independence  of  the 


24  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

changes  which  most  of  us  must  have  if  we  are  to  keep  out  of  the 
grave  and  out  of  the  asylum.  He  was  utterly  consecrated  to 
Christ  from  the  beginning.  His  change  was  in  the  unsearch- 
ableness  of  one  Person.  From  the  first  effort  he  put  forth  to 
the  last  (and  he  laboured  without  respite  for  thirty-four  years), 
he  never  flagged  in  his  ardent  attachment  to  the  same  truth, 
expressed  in  the  same  words,  looked  at  from  the  same  stand- 
point. His  latest  letters  contain  the  self-same  phrases  as  his 
earliest ;  and  they  are  given  with  as  much  feeling  as  if  they 
were  quite  new.  They  were  newer  every  day.  '  Grace ' — the 
word  that  comes  ,to  him  when  his  soul  is  comforted  and 
strengthened,  when  sinners  are  converted,  when  marvellous 
deliverances  are  wrought  out  for  him — was  sweeter,  richer, 
fuller,  more  glorious  the  more  he  contemplated  it.  The  truth 
was  the  same,  but  it  was  inexhaustible,  and  its  power  over 
him  immeasurable.  His  perpetual,  never  withering  freshness 
of  soul  will  often  strike  us  as  we  follow  him  to  the.  end.  He 
was  like  'a  tree  planted  by  the  rivers  of  water,  whose  leaf 
never  withered,  and  whatsoever  he  did  prospered.' 


CHAPTER    II 
1736 

HIS   ORDINATION    AS    DEACON — ESSAYS    IN    PREACHING 

IT  was  time  for  the  irregular  soldier  to  become  a  captain  of 
the  Lord's  host.  The  homes  of  the  poor  and  the  gaols  of 
Oxford  and  Gloucester  had  been,  along  with  the  halls  of  Oxford, 
the  finest  training  schools  for  the  coming  leader.  What  progress 
he  had  made  in  learning  does  not  appear;  all  other  considerations 
were  lost  in  his  supreme  pleasure  in  religion.  All  learning  was 
nothing  in  comparison  of  the  knowledge  of  God  and  of  His 
Son  Jesus  Christ,  and  in  that  knowledge  he  was  well  instructed  ; 
nor  was  he  ignorant  of  his  own  heart,  of  its  weakness  and 
sinfulness.  What  natural  fitness  he  had  for  speaking  none 
could  fail  to  perceive,  when  once  they  had  heard  his  rich,  sweet 
voice,  and  saw  the  artless  grace  of  all  his  movements.  He  had 
not  waited  for  a  bishop's  ordination  and  licence  to  preach  the 
gospel  to  the  poor  ;  but  a  licence  was  ready  so  soon  as  he  found 
'peace  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.' 

White-field  did  not  lightly  take  on  him  the  vows  of  tin- 
ministry.  He  was  well  pleased  to  toil  among  the  lowest,  and 
only  at  the  suggestion  of  friends  did  the  question  of  his  receiv- 
ing orders  come  into  his  mind.  It  immediately  recalled  to  him 
the  solemn  words  of  St.  Paul  to  Timothy  :  '  Not  a  novice,  lest, 


26  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

being  puffed  up  with  pride,  he  fall  into  the  condemnation  of 
the  devil.'  A  question  which  he  must  answer  on  ordination- 
day,  '  Do  you  trust  that  you  are  inwardly  moved  by  the  Holy 
Ghost  to  take  upon  you  this  office  and  administration  ?  '  filled 
him  with  trembling.  With  strong  crying  and  tears,  he  often 
said,  '  Lord,  I  am  a  youth  of  uncircumcised  lips ;  Lord,  send 
me  not  into  the  vineyard  yet.'  He  even  went  so  far  as  to  ask 
the  prayers  of  his  Oxford  friends,  that  God  would  confound  the 
prayers  of  his  Gloucester  friends  to  have  him  at  once  in  orders ; 
but  they,  as  might  have  been  expected,  replied,  '  Pray  we  the 
Lord  of  the  harvest  to  send  thee  and  many  more  labourers  into 
His  harvest'  Timidity  still  held  its  ground ;  he  continued  to 
pray  against  becoming  a  keeper  of  souls  so  soon. 

As  he  had  longed  to  be  with  the  Methodists  when  he  saw 
them  insulted,  but  was  staggered  when  the  first  experience  of 
their  daily  shame  came  to  his  lot,  so  he  was  desiring  '  the  office 
of  a  bishop  '  while  fearing  to  enter  upon  it.  His  sensitive 
nature  was  quick  to  feel  the  presence  of  difficulties,  and  frank 
to  acknowledge  them ;  and  hence  his  course  was  fashioned,  not 
by  blindness  to  objections  and  insensibility  to  criticism,  but  by 
the  commanding  influence  of 'the  things  of  God.'  Wesley  said 
of  him,  that — 

'  In  whatever  concerned  himself,  he  was  pliant  and  flexible  ;  in  this  case 
he  was  easy  to  be  entreated,  easy  to  be  either  convinced  or  persuaded ; 
but  he  was  immovable  in  the  things  of  God,  or  wherever  his  conscience 
was  concerned.  None  could  persuade,  any  more  than  affright,  him  to 
vary  in  the  least  point  from  that  integrity  which  was  inseparable  from  his 
whole  character,  and  regulated  all  his  words  and  actions.' 

When  friends  were  urging  him  to  be  ordained,  he  was  pleasing 
himself  with  the  persuasion  that  he  could  not  enter  holy  orders 
for  two  more  years,  because  Bishop  Benson  had  expressed  his 
resolution  not  to  lay  hands  on  any  one  who  was  under  twenty- 
three  years  of  age.     That  he  strongly  desired  to  do  what  yet  he 


A   DREAM  27 

would  not  do,  because  his  judgment  and  his  conscience  were 
not  fully  convinced,  is  evident  from  the  way  in  which  his  mind 
ran  in  his  dreams ;  for  though  he  calls  the  dream  spoken  of  in 
the  next  sentence  'a  notice  from  God,'  it  was  undoubtedly  the 
consequence  of  his  state  of  mind  about  the  ministry.  He 
says — 

'  Long  ere  I  had  the  least  prospect  of  being  called  before  the  bishop,  I 
dreamed  one  night  I  was  talking  with  him  in  his  palace,  and  that  he  gave 
me  some  gold,  which  seemed  to  sound  again  in  my  hand.  Afterward  this 
dream  would  often  come  into  my  mind  ;  and,  whenever  I  saw  the  bishop  at 
church,  a  strong  persuasion  would  rise  in  my  mind  that  I  should  very 
shortly  go  to  him.  I  always  checked  it,  and  prayed  to  God  to  preserve  me 
from  ever  desiring  that  honour  which  cometh  of  man.  One  afternoon  it 
happened  that  the  bishop  took  a  solitary  walk — as  I  was  afterwards  told — 
to  Lady  Selwyn's,  near  Gloucester,  who  not  long  before  had  made  me  a 
present  of  a  piece  of  gold.  She,  I  found,  recommended  me  to  the  bishop  ; 
and,  a  few  days  after,  as  I  was  coming  from  the  cathedral  prayers,  thinking 
of  no  such  thing,  one  of  the  vergers  called  after  me,  and  said  the  bishop 
desired  to  speak  with  me.  I — forgetful  at  that  time  of  my  dream — imme- 
diately turned  back,  considering  what  I  had  done  to  deserve  his  lordship's 
displeasure.  When  I  came  to  the  top  of  the  palace  stairs,  the  bishop  took 
me  by  the  hand,  told  me  he  was  glad  to  see  me,  and  bid  me  wait  a  little 
till  he  had  put  off  his  habit,  and  he  would  return  to  me  again.  This  gave 
me  the  opportunity  of  praying  to  God  for  His  assistance,  and  for  His 
providence  over  me. 

'  At  his  coming  again  into  the  room,  the  bishop  told  me  he  had  heard  of 
my  character,  liked  my  behaviour  at  church,  and  inquiring  my  age,  "  Not- 
withstanding," says  he,  "  I  have  declared  I  would  not  ordain  any  one  under 
three-and-twenty,  yet  I  shall  think  it  my  duty  to  ordain  you  whenever  you 
come  for  holy  orders."  He  then  made  me  a  present  of  five  guineas,  to  buy 
a  book,  which,  sounding  again  in  my  hand,  put  me  in  mind  of  my  dream  ; 
whereupon  my  heart  was  filled  with  a  sense  of  God's  love.' 

Whitefield  determined  to  offer  himself  for  ordination  the 
next  Ember  days.  That  determination  made,  the  next  question 
was  as  to  his  place  of  labour ;  and  here  contending  interests 
disturbed  him.  At  Gloucester  he  had  been  useful,  and  his 
friends  wished  to  have  him  with  them.  But  when  he  went  up 
to  Oxford,  his  old  friends  there  made  out  a  still  more  urgent 


28  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

case  on  behalf  of  his  staying  with  them  :  John  and  Charles 
Wesley  had  sailed  to  Savannah  to  act  as  chaplains  to  a  new 
colony  there,  and  to  attempt  the  conversion  of  the  Creek 
Indians;  the  prisoners  in  the  gaol  needed  some  one  to  supply 
their  lack  of  service ;  Whitefield  had  been  as  useful  at  Oxford 
as  at  Gloucester ;  Oxford  was  one  of  the  schools  of  the  prophets, 
and  every  student  converted  was  a  parish  gained.  To  remove 
any  objection  of  a  pecuniary  nature  which  might  have  been 
urged,  application  for  money  aid  was  made  to  Sir  John  Philips, 
who  was  a  great  friend  of  Methodists,  and  who  at  once  said  that 
Whitefield  should  have  twenty  pounds  a  year  from  him,  even  if 
he  did  not  stay  at  Oxford,  but  thirty  pounds  if  he  did.  Oxford 
prevailed  over  Gloucester,  but  its  triumph  was  not  for  long ;  all 
English-speaking  people  came  and  claimed  their  right  in  him ; 
and  his  large,  brave  heart  was  not  slow  to  respond.  Wesley 
uttered  the  fine  saying,  'The  world  is  my  parish  ; '  Whitefield, 
the  most  nearly  of  any  man,  made  the  saying  a  simple  state- 
ment of  fact. 

Meanwhile  devout  and  conscientious  preparation  was  made 
for  the  approaching  ordination,  which  was  to  be  on  Trinity 
Sunday.  The  preceding  day  was  spent  by  Whitefield  in 
abstinence  and  prayer. 

'  In  the  evening,'  he  says,  '  I  retired  to  a  hill  near  the  town,  and  prayed 
fervently  for  about  two  hours,  in  behalf  of  myself  and  those  who  were  to 
be  ordained  with  me.  On  Sunday  morning  I  rose  early,  and  prayed  over 
St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  Timothy,  and  more  particularly  over  that  precept, 
"Let  no  one  despise  thy  youth;"  and  when  the  bishop  laid  his  hands 
upon  my  head,  if  my  vile  heart  doth  not  deceive  me,  I  offered  up  my 
whole  spirit,  soul,  and  body  to  the  service  of  God's  sanctuary  ;  and  after- 
wards sealed  the  good  confession  I  had  made  before  many  witnesses,  by 
partaking  of  the  holy  sacrament  of  our  Lord's  most  blessed  body  and  blood.' 

Elsewhere  he  says — 

'This  is  a  day  '  (June  20,  1736)  '  much  to  be  remembered,  O  my  soul! 
for,  about  noon,  I  was  solemnly  admitted  by  good  Bishop  Benson,  before 


THE   GOOD   OF  SOULS  29 

many  witnesses,  into  holy  orders,  and  was,  blessed  be  God  !  kept  com- 
posed both  before  and  after  imposition  of  hands.  I  endeavoured  to 
behave  with  unaffected  devotion,  but  not  suitable  enough  to  the  greatness 
of  the  office  I  was  to  undertake.  At  the  same  time  I  trust  I  answered 
every  question  from  the  bottom  of  my  heart,  and  heartily  prayed  that  God 
might  say  Amen.  /  hope  the  good  of  souls  will  be  my  only  principle  of  \f 
action.  Let  come  what  will,  life  or  death,  depth  or  height,  I  shall  hence- 
forward live  like  one  who  this  day,  in  the  presence  of  men  and  angels, 
took  the  holy  sacrament,  upon  the  profession  of  being  inwardly  moved  by 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  take  upon  me  that  ministration  in  the  Church.  This 
I  began  with  leading  prayers  to  the  prisoners  in  the  county  gaol. 
Whether  I  myself  shall  ever  have  the  honour  of  styling  myself  a  prisoner 
of  the  Lord,  I  know  not ;  but,  indeed,  I  can  call  heaven  and  earth  to 
witness,  that  when  the  bishop  laid  his  hand  upon  me,  I  gave  myself  up  y 
to  be  a  martyr  for  Him  who  hung  upon  the  cross  for  me.' 


The  words  we  have  italicised  faithfully  describe  the  ministry 
to  which  he  was  this  day  set  apart :  '  /  hope  the  good  of  souls 
will  be  my  only  principle  of  action.' 

Many  of  Whitefield's  friends  pressed  him  to  preach  in  the 
afternoon  after  his  ordination,  but  he  could  not.  He  had 
been  in  Gloucester  a  fortnight,  partly  with  the  intention  of 
composing  some  sermons.  He  wanted  'a  hundred  at  least,' 
so  that  he  might  not  be  altogether  without  ministerial  re- 
sources, compelled  always  to  go  from  the  study  to  the  pulpit 
with  a  newly  forged  weapon  ;  but,  alas  !  he  found,  like  many 
other  beginners  who  have  attempted  the  same  thing,  that 
sermons  cannot  easily  be  made  without  the  helping  excite- 
ment of  expected  and  appointed  work.  He  had  matter 
enough  in  his  heart,  but  nothing  would  flow  from  his  pen. 
He  strove  and  prayed,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  He  mentioned 
his  case  to  a  clergyman ;  but  that  gentleman  showed  his 
refinement  of  feeling  and  his  sympathy  with  a  young  man's 
anxiety  and  fear  on  the  threshold  of  public  life,  by  telling 
Whitcfield  that  he  was  an  enthusiast.  He  wrote  to  another, 
and   this   time  the  response  was  kind,  assuring  him  of   the 


30  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

writer's  prayers,  and  explaining  to  him  why  God  might  be 
dealing  with  him  in  this  manner.  At  last  he  thought  he  found 
the  cause  of  his  inability  explained  by  these  words  :  '  We 
essayed  to  go  into  Bithynia,  but  the  Spirit  suffered  us  not ; ' 
and  by  the  words  spoken  to  Ezekiel — '  Thou  shalt  be  dumb  ; 
but  when  I  speak  unto  thee,  then  shalt  thou  speak.'  This 
made  him  quite  easy ;  he  did  '  not  doubt  but  that  He  who 
increased  a  little  lad's  loaves  and  fishes  for  the  feeding  of  a 
great  multitude  would,  from  time  to  time,  supply  him  with 
spiritual  food  for  whatever  congregation  he  should  be  called 
to.'  The  morning  after  his  ordination,  while  he  was  praying, 
came  these  words  into  his  mind — '  Speak  out.'  How  he  used 
that  permission,  and  how  his  one  sermon  grew  until  he  had 
preached  more  than  eighteen  thousand  times,  or  more  than 
ten  times  a  week  for  four-and-thirty  years — considerably  more, 
if  allowance  be  made  for  illnesses  and  long  voyages — and  fed 
multitudes  beyond  computation,  it  will  be  our  next  duty  to 
trace. 

On  the  Sunday  after  his  ordination,  that  is,  on  June  27, 
1736,  Whitefield  preached  his  first  sermon.  It  was  delivered 
in  the  old  familiar  church  to  a  large  congregation,  which  had 
assembled  out  of  curiosity  to  hear  a  townsman  j  its  subject 
was  '  The  Necessity  and  Benefit  of  Religious  Society.  A 
feeling  of  awe  crept  over  him  as  he  looked  upon  the  crowd 
of  faces,  many  of  which  had  been  familiar  to  him  from  his 
infancy.  Former  efforts  in  public  speaking  when  a  boy,  and 
his  labours  in  exhorting  the  poor,  proved  of  immense  service 
to  him,  removing — what  has  often  overwhelmed  bold  and 
capable  speakers  on  their  first  appearance — the  sense  of  utter 
strangeness  to  the  work;  his  soul  was  comforted  with  the 
presence  of  the  Almighty ;  and  as  he  proceeded,  the  fire 
kindled,  fear  forsook  him,  and  he  spoke  with  '  gospel 
authority.'     A  few   mocked ;    but  there  could   be  no  doubt 


FIRST  SERMON  31 

about  the  power  of  the  new  preacher.  A  complaint  was  soon 
made  to  the  bishop  that  fifteen  persons  had  been  driven  mad 
by  his  sermon.  The  bishop  only  replied,  that  he  hoped  the 
madness  might  not  be  forgotten  before  another  Sunday.  Nor 
is  that  first  sermon  without  another  touch  of  interest.  It  was 
not  prepared,  in  the  first  instance,  for  St.  Mary  de  Crypt,  but 
for  '  a  small  Christian  society  ' — a  fact  which  accounts  for  its 
being  on  such  an  unusual  topic  for  beginners,  and  for  the 
thoroughly  Methodistical  thoughts  found  at  its  close.  Just 
as  it  had  been  preached  to  the  society  was  it  sent  by  its 
author  to  a  neighbouring  .clergyman,  to  show  him  how  unfit 
the  author  was  to  preach.  He  kept  it  a  fortnight,  and  then 
sent  it  back  with  a  guinea  for  the  loan  of  it,  saying  that  he 
had  divided  it  into  two,  and  preached  it  to  his  people  morning 
and  evening. 

On  Tuesday  he  preached  again,  and  repeated  his  attacks  on 
polite  sinners.  Before  he  returned  to  Oxford  on  the  Wednes- 
day, Bishop  Benson  added  to  all  his  past  kindnesses  one 
more — a  present  of  five  guineas,  which,  with  a  quarter's 
allowance  now  due  from  Sir  John  Philips,  enabled  him  to  pay 
his  ordination  expenses  and  take  his  bachelor's  degree. 

For  another  week  he  wore  the  servitor's  habit,  and  then 
assumed  the  gown  of  a  bachelor  of  arts.  The  Methodists, 
who  had  received  him  with  great  joy  on  his  return  to  Oxford, 
installed  him  as  their  chief,  and  committed  to  his  charge 
the  religious  oversight  of  their  work,  and  the  charity-money 
which  they  collected  and  used  for  poor  prisoners.  A  sweet 
repose  rests  upon  this  part  of  his  life.  Heart  and  mind 
were  at  peace  ;  studies  were  pursued  with  satisfaction ;  inter- 
course with  religious  friends  was  free  and  congenial;  private 
Christian  duties,  prayer,  praise,  and  meditation,  charmed  him 
to  his  room  ;  work  was  to  be  done  for  the  defence  and  spread 
of  truth.     Our  last  glimpse  of  him  in  his  'sweet  retirement' 


32  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

sees   him   poring   over    Matthew    Henry's    Commentary,  and 
then  writing  to  a  friend  down  at  Gloucester — 

'  Herewith  I  have  sent  you  seven  pounds  to  pay  for  Mr.  Henry's  Com- 
mentary. Dear  Squire  Thorold  lately  made  me  a  present  of  ten  guineas, 
so  that  now  (for  ever  blessed  be  the  Divine  goodness  !)  I  can  send  you 
more  than  I  thought  for.  In  time  I  hope  to  pay  the  apothecary's  bill.  If 
I  forget  your  favours,  I  shall  also  forget  my  God.  Say  nothing  of  your 
receiving  this  money ;  only  give  thanks,  give  hearty  thanks  to  our  good 
and  gracious  God  for  His  infinite,  unmerited  mercy  to  me,  the  vilest  of 
the  sons  of  men.' 

A  trivial  circumstance  called  him  forth  from  his  study 
before  he  was  twenty-two  years  old.  The  curate  of  the  Tower 
Chapel,  London,  who  was  an  intimate  friend,  having  to  go 
into  Hampshire  to  officiate  there  for  a  short  time,  asked  him 
to  fill  his  place  during  his  absence  from  home.  Whitefield 
complied  with  the  request,  and  took  coach  for  London  on 
Wednesday,  August  4,  1736,  with  much  fear  and  trembling. 
His  first  sermon  in  the  metropolis  was  preached  on  the  follow- 
ing Sunday  afternoon,  August  8th,  in  Bishopsgate  Church. 
His  youthful  appearance  as  he  went  up  the  pulpit  stairs 
provoked,  as  he  in  his  sensitive  state  of  mind  thought,  a 
general  sneer,  which,  however,  was  exchanged  for  solemn 
seriousness  when  he  got  into  his  sermon.  He  again  con- 
quered himself  and  his  congregation ;  and  the  people,  on  his 
coming  down  from  the  pulpit,  showed  him  every  respect,  and 
blessed  him  as  he  passed  along.  No  one  could  answer  the 
question  which  was  now  on  every  one's  lips — '  Who  was  the 
preacher  to-day?'  Attention  had  been  gained,  and  the  two 
short  months  of  the  London  visit  were  quite  long  enough  to 
secure  a  crowded  chapel  at  the  Tower  every  Sunday.  Any 
ordinary  man  might  have  been  sure  of  perfect  quietness  in 
such  a  place,  and  of  returning  home  as  unknown  as  when  he 
entered  the  city  ;  and  no  doubt  such  would  have  been  White- 


BORN  A  PREACHER  33 

field's  case  but  for  his  wonderful  powers  and  for  that  blessing 
from  above  which  went  whithersoever  he  went.  The  usual 
wearisome  time  which  ability  and  worth  spend  in  self-culture, 
in  striving  with  self  till  it  is  well  mastered,  in  grappling  with 
prejudices,  and,  not  improbably,  with  positive  injustice,  was  a 
time  never  known  to  Whitefield.  He  came  to  manhood  in 
youth,  his  sun  rose  to  its  zenith  at  early  morn.  For  him  to 
preach  was  at  once  to  spread  excitement,  and  draw  together 
masses  of  people ;  and  when  they  came  he  never  lost  his 
hold  upon  them.  His  manner  always  charmed,  never 
offended  ;  whereas  the  utmost  mental  power  and  personal 
worth  of  many  preachers  can  hardly  sustain  the  patience  of 
their  hearers  through  a  half-hour's  sermon.  His  thought  was 
always  marked  by  good  sense  ;  no  one  could  be  disgusted 
with  inanity.  His  emotion  was  always  fresh,  streaming  from 
his  heart  as  from  a  perennial  fountain  ;  and,  unless  the  hearer 
could  not  feel,  could  not  be  touched  by  tenderness  or  awe,  he 
was  sure  to  find  his  soul  made  more  sensitive.  The  hearts  of 
most  were  melted  in  the  intense  heat  of  the  preacher's  fervour 
like  silver  in  a  refiner's  furnace. 

During  his  stay  at  the  Tower  he  preached  and  catechised 
once  a  week,  and  visited  the  soldiers  in  the  barracks  and  in 
the  infirmary  daily ;  every  morning  and  evening  he  read 
prayers  at  Wapping  Chapel ;  and  on  Tuesday  he  preached  at 
Ludgate  prison.  '  Religious  friends  from  divers  parts  of  the 
town,'  he  says,  'attended  the  word,  and  several  young  men 
came  on  Lord's  Day  morning  under  serious  impressions,  to 
hear  me  discourse  about  the  new  birth.  The  chapel  was 
crowded  on  Lord's  Days.' 

Here  a  letter  reached  him  from  his  old  friends  the  Wesleys 
which  told  all  that  they  were  doing  in  Georgia,  and  made  him 
long  to  go  and  join  them.  But  difficulties  stood  in  the  way. 
He  had  no  '  outward  call,'  and  his  health  was  supposed  to  be 

4 


34  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

unequal  to  a  sea-voyage.  He  strove  to  throw  off  the  new 
thoughts  and  feelings,  prayed  that  the  Lord  would  not  suffer 
him  to  be  deluded,  and  asked  counsel  of  his  friends.  His 
friends  were  not  less  sensible  in  advising  than  he  had  been  in 
asking  for  advice.  They,  too,  laid  emphasis  on  the  absence  of 
a  definite  call  from  abroad  ;  they  urged  the  need  of  labourers 
at  home,  and  begged  their  friend  to  avoid  rashness  and  wait 
further  for  an  intimation  of  the  will  of  God.  Their  counsel 
was  received  with  all  respect,  and  Whitefield,  agreeing  that  it 
was  best  to  do  so,  banished  Georgia  from  his  mind  for  the 
present,  and  went  on  heartily  with  his  preaching  and  visiting 
until  the  return  of  his  friend  from  the  country. 

Then  he  went  back  to  his  delightful  life  at  Oxford  for  a  few 
weeks  more,  and  for  the  last  time  his  quiet  duties  were  re- 
sumed. His  state  of  mind  seemed  to  presage  the  wonders  of 
his  ministry ;  his  heart  burned  with  even  more  than  its  former 
fervour ;  and  other  students  having  received  a  similar  impulse 
to  their  spiritual  life,  Whitefield's  room  was  daily  the  scene  of 
such  religious  services  as  distinguished  the  Church  imme- 
diately after  the  descent  of  the  Holy  Ghost  at  Pentecost, 
when  little  bands  of  devout  disciples  met  to  pray  and  to 
encourage  each  other  in  the  profession  of  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Kindness  waited  on  him  during  these  few  weeks,  as  it  did 
during  the  rest  of  his  life.  His  power  to  win  the  hearts  of 
rich  and  poor,  which,  as  Dr.  Johnson  would  have  said,  always 
kept  his  friendships  in  repair,  had  constrained  the  heart  of  a 
gentleman  in  London  who,  without  the  least  solicitation,  sent 
him  money  for  the  poor,  and  also  as  much  for  himself  as 
sufficed  to  discharge  a  small  debt  contracted  for  books  before 
he  took  his  degree.  Lady  Betty  Hastings,  sister  of  the  Earl 
of  Huntingdon,  also  assisted  both  him  and  some  of  his 
Methodist  friends,  thus  beginning  an  intimacy  between  him 


AS  A  COUNTRY  PARSON  35 

and  her  family  which  lasted  as  long  as   he  lived,  and  grew 
deeper  towards  the  end. 

Things  were  beginning  to  give  promise  of  the  future  ;  the 
dim  outline  of  his  career  was  distinguishable.  College  quiet- 
ness had  been  broken  ;  a  first  attempt  at  public  work  had 
been  successfully  made.  Georgia  had  come  before  his  mind 
and  although  banished  for  a  while  it  was  soon  to  return,  an 
the  next  time  with  an  imperative  message. 

In  November  another  call  to  preach  came  to  him,  sent  upon 
a  principle  which  has  been  extensively  put  in  practice  by  a 
large  section  of  clergymen  in  the  Church  of  England.  The 
early  Methodist  preachers,  who  were  the  true  predecessors,  in 
a  spiritual  line,  of  the  later  '  Evangelical  School '  of  the  Church 
of  England,  were  the  first  to  set  the  example,  which  the 
evangelicals  have  largely  copied,  of  always  seeking  men  of 
their  own  religious  views  to  fill  their  pulpits  when  they  had 
occasion  to  be  from  home.  Thus  it  was  that  the  Methodist 
clergyman  of  Dummer,  in  Hampshire,  '  being  likely  to  be 
chosen  Dean  of  Corpus  Christi  College,'  sent  for  the  Methodist 
deacon  of  Pembroke  to  preach  for  him,  while  he  himself  went 
to  Oxford  to  attend  to  the  pending  promotion.  The  young 
deacon  asked,  as  usual,  the  advice  of  his  friends,  and  the  two 
exchanged  places. 

Trouble  now  arose  from  an  unexpected  quarter.  He  who 
had  felt  himself  to  be  the  vilest  of  men  could  not  '  brook  ' 
having  intercourse  with  the  poor,  illiterate  people  of  the  future 
Dean  of  Corpus  Christi !  Amidst  the  moral  and  intellectual 
barrenness  of  his  new  charge,  Whitefield  would  have  given  all 
the  world  for  one  of  his  Oxford  friends,  and  '  mourned  for  lack 
of  them  like  a  dove.'  To  overcome  his  unholy  aversion  he 
gave  himself  to  prayer  and  to  the  study  of  a  fictitious  character, 
'  Ourania,'  which  William  Law  has  sketched  in  his  '  Serious 
Call  to  a  Devout  Life,'  as  a  pattern  of  humility      The  unlovely 


36  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

rustics  became  more  pleasant  to  his  eye,  and  he  found,  what 
everybody  finds  who  goes  among  the  poor  with  a  warm  heart, 
that  their  conversation,  artless,  honest,  and  fresh,  was  full  of 
instruction  and  stimulus  ;  his  new  friends  successfully  con- 
tended for  his  heart  against  the  old  ones.  It  became  no 
unpalatable  duty  to  go  and  visit  them,  seeing  they  often 
taught  him  as  much  in  an  afternoon  as  he  could  learn  by  a 
week's  private  study.  He  imbibed  the  spirit  of  the  apostle, 
who  was  ready  '  to  become  all  things  to  all  men,  if  by  any 
means  he  might  save  some ; '  the  spirit,  too,  of  a  greater  than 
St.  Paul,  whom  '  the  common  people  heard  gladly.' 

His  friend  had  also  set  him  a  good  example  of  method  in 
his  work,  which  he  wisely  followed.  Public  prayers  were  read 
twice  a  day — in  the  morning  before  the  people  went  out  to 
work,  and  in  the  evening  after  they  returned  ;  children  were  also 
catechised  daily,  and  the  people  visited  from  house  to  house. 
His  day  was  divided  into  three  parts ;  eight  hours  for  study 
and  retirement,  eight  for  sleep  and  meals,  and  eight  for  reading 
prayers,  catechising,  and  visiting  the  parish. 

During  this  visit  he  had  an  invitation  to  a  profitable  curacy 
in  London,  no  doubt  through  his  London  labours,  but  it  was 
declined.  A  more  attractive,  because  a  more  difficult  and  more 
trying,  sphere  of  labour,  was  Georgia,  to  which  he  was  now 
called  in  a  way  earnest  enough  to  arouse  all  the  enthusiasm  of 
his  ardent  soul,  and  plain  enough  to  leave  him  without  a  doubt 
that  God  willed  that  he  should  go.  A  predisposition  in  favour 
of  the  new  colony  was  in  process  of  formation  when,  in 
December,  news  came  of  the  return  of  Charles  Wesley.  Next 
there  came  a  letter  from  his  old  friend,  stating  that  he  had 
come  over  for  labourers,  but  adding,  with  reference  to  White- 
field,  '  I  dare  not  prevent  God's  nomination.'  A  few  days 
elapsed,  and  a  letter  came  from  John,  couched  in  stronger  and 
less  diffident  language  than  Charles  had  used.    So  strange  and 


A  CALL  TO  GEORGIA  37 

unexpected  are  the  changes  which  come  over  the  course  of 
events  in  life  that  Wesley,  who  was  shortly  to  leave  America 
and  never  again  visit  it,  could  write  in  this  urgent  and  confident 
way  :  '  Only  Mr.  Delamotte  is  with  me,  till  God  shall  stir  up 
the  hearts  of  some  of  His  servants,  who,  putting  their  lives  in 
their  hands,  shall  come  over  and  help  us,  where  the  harvest  is 
so  great  and  the  labourers  so  few.  What  if  thou  art  the  man, 
Mr.  Whitefield  ? '  Another  of  his  letters,  by  presenting  to 
Whitefield's  mind  nothing  but  heavenly  rewards,  was  still 
better  calculated  to  secure  his  co-operation.  '  Do  you  ask 
me,'  he  says,  'what  you  shall  have?  Food  to  eat  and  raiment 
to  put  on,  a  house  to  lay  your  head  in  such  as  your  Master  had 
not,  and  a  crown  of  glory  that  fadeth  not  away.'  As  White- 
field  read,  his  heart  leaped  within  him,  and  echoed  to  the  call. 
The  call  was  heaven-sent,  if  any  call  has  ever  been. 

The  United  States,  then  a  line  of  English  colonies  on  the 
Atlantic  coast,  were  to  share  largely  in  Whitefield's  labours, 
and  he  as  largely  in  their  kindness  and  generosity  ;  and  that 
hand  which  was  beckoning  him  to  their  shore  was  quietly  and 
effectually  undoing  the  ties  which  held  him  to  England.  Mr. 
Kinchin  obtained  the  appointment  of  Dean  of  Corpus  Christi, 
and  could  take  Whitefield's  place  as  the  leader  of  Methodism 
at  Oxford.  Mr.  Hervey  was  ready  to  serve  the  cure  of 
Dummer.  No  place  would  suffer  from  Whitefield's  departure, 
and  there  seemed  to  be  a  necessity  for  him  to  help  Georgia, 
which  was  a  young,  increasing  colony,  enjoying  much  favour 
from  the  home  government.  Besides,  there  were  many  Indians 
near  the  colony,  and  Whitefield  felt  the  stirrings  of  a  mis- 
sionary spirit.  The  decision  was  given  in  favour  of  Georgia, 
and  in  a  way  that  made  alteration  almost  out  of  the  question. 
Neither  Oxford  friends  nor  Gloucester  relations  were  this  time 
consulted,  but  a  firm,  personal  resolution  was  made  which 
nothing  was  to  be  allowed  to  assail.     Relations  were  informed 


33   .  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

of  his  intentions  ;  but  told  that  he  would  not  so  much  as  come 
to  bid  them  farewell,  unless  they  promised  not  to  dissuade 
him ;  for  he  said  that  he  knew  his  own  weakness. 

However,  his  weakness  so  far  gained  upon  him  as  to  send 
him  down  to  Gloucester  on  New  Year's  Day,  1736-37,  after  he 
had  said  goodbye  to  his  friends  at  Oxford ;  and  his  strength 
had  so  much  increased  that  he  succeeded  in  abiding  by  his 
purpose.  Bishop  Benson  welcomed  him  as  a  father,  approved 
of  his  design,  wished  him  success,  and  said,  '  I  do  not  doubt 
that  God  will  bless  you,  and  that  you  will  do  much  good 
abroad.'  But  his  '  own  relations  at  first  were  not  so  passive. 
His  mother  wept  sore,'  which  was  both  to  his  credit  and  hers. 
Others  tempted  him  with  base  words,  which  must  have 
buttressed  his  citadel  instead  of  undermining  it ;  they  '  urged 
what  pretty  preferments  he  might  have  if  he  would  stay  at 
home.'     He  showed  no  wavering,  and  the  opposition  ceased. 

This  farewell  visit  was  marked  by  that  constant  industry 
which  distinguished  him  to  the  last.  He  preached  often 
enough  '  to  grow  a  little  popular,'  and  to  gather  large  congre- 
gations, which  were  moved  by  the  word  of  God.  In  three 
weeks  he  went  to  Bristol  to  take  leave  of  his  friends  there,  and 
again  he  preached,  undertaking  duty  this  time  in  an  unexpected 
way.  It  being  his  custom,  go  where  he  might,  to  attend  the 
daily  services  of  the  Church,  lie  went  to  St.  John's  to  hear  a 
sermon.  When  prayers  were  over,  and  the  psalm  was  being 
sung,  the  minister  came  to  him  and  asked  him  to  preach. 
'  Having  his  notes  about  him,  he  complied.'  The  next  day 
the  same  thing  was  repeated  at  St.  Stephen's,  but  this  time  the 
'  alarm '  excited  by  his  preaching  was  so  widespread,  that,  on 
the  following  Sunday,  crowds  of  people,  of  all  denominations, 
'  Quakers,  Baptists,  Presbyterians,  &c.,'  flocked  to  the  churches 
where  he  had  to  officiate,  and  many  were  unable  to  find 
admission.     The  civic  authorities  paid  him  respect,  the  mayor 


HOL  V  JEALOUS  V  39 

appointing  him  to  preach  before  himself  and  the  corporation. 
'For  some  time  following  he  preached  all  the  lectures  on 
week-days,  and  twice  on  Sundays,  besides  visiting  the  religious 
societies.'  As  always,  so  now,  he  preached  with  power  and 
with  the  Holy  Ghost ;  and  the  new  doctrines — new  as  compared 
with  the  prevalent  teachings  of  the  times — of  justification  by 
faith  and  the  new  birth,  '  made  their  way  like  lightning  into 
the  hearers'  consciences.'  It  is  touching  to  mark  the  holy 
jealousy  with  which,  amid  the  city's  excitement  and  eagerness 

to  hear  him,  he  entreated  a  friend,  '  Oh  !  pray,  dear  Mr.  H , 

that  God  would  always  keep  me  humble,  and  fully  convinced 
that  I  am  nothing  without  Him,  and  that  all  the  good  which  is 
done  upon  earth,  God  doth  it  Himself.' 


CHAPTER   III 
March,  1737 — March,  1738 

APPOINTED     CHAPLAIN      TO     THE     GEORGIAN     COLONY EARLY 

POPULARITY FIRST    VOYAGE 

C"*  EORGIA,  the  last  colony  founded  in  America  by  England, 
-T  was  named  in  honour  of  George  II.,  and  held  a  charter 
dated  June  9,  1732.  It  was  an  outpost,  to  keep  in  check  the 
Spaniards  and  the  French.  Its  first  settlers  were  poor  English, 
debtors  out  of  gaols  and  dwellers  in  London  'slums,'  Jews, 
and  convicts  from  Jamaica.  Then  came  English,  Scotch, 
and  Moravians — a  company  of  a  higher  type ;  there  were 
also  Saltzburgers  from  Germany,  driven  from  their  homes 
by  Roman  Catholic  cruelty  to  a  colony  where'  Catholics 
were  not  permitted  to  come.  The  government  was  in 
the  hands  of  twenty  -  one  Trustees,  many  of  whom 
were  Presbyterians.  General  Oglethorpe,  the  romantic  and 
active  philanthropist,  was  the  first  governor  of  this  semi- 
political,  semi-philanthropical  settlement.  Ardent  spirits  were 
prohibited,  and  no  one  might  hold  slaves.  '  The  Trustees 
refused  to  make  a  law  permitting  such  a  horrid  crime  as 
slavery,'  says  the  Governor.  Close  to  the  white  men  were 
25,000  Creek  Indians,  whose  rights  were  respected  and  their 
goodwill  conciliated.     The  Trustees  honestly  aimed  at  con 

stituting  a  colony  morally  sound  and  useful. 

40 


GEORGIA  41 

To  keep  the  sanctions  of  religion  before  the  minds  of  the 
settlers,  a  chaplain,  by  name  Bosomworth,  was  sent  out  with 
the  first  company ;  but  unfortunately  he  was  a  hypocrite, 
and,  taking  to  himself  a  native  woman  as  wife,  through  her  he 
raised  an  armed  opposition  among  the  Indians,  and  unsuccess- 
fully sought  to  destroy  the  whites.  The  moral  condition  of 
the  colony,  not  over  good  to  begin  with,  rapidly  deteriorated, 
and  a  native  chief,  when  urged  to  embrace  Christianity,  refused, 
saying  :  '  Why,  these  are  Christians  at  Savannah  !  these  are 
Christians  at  Frederica  !  Christian  much  drunk!'  ('Chris- 
tian '  had  smuggled  drink  in).  '  Christian  beat  men  !  Christian 
tell  lies  !  Devil  Christian !  Me  no  Christian  ! '  To  this 
strange  mixture  of  men  and  women  came  John  and  Charles 
Wesley  on  February  5,  1736.  With  the  best  of  intentions  they 
both  signally  failed — John  at  Savannah,  Charles  at  Frederica. 
Neither  of  them  knew  the  liberty  which  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  and 
that  same  pitiless  legalism,  or  '  methodism,'  which  they  applied 
to  themselves,  they  strove  to  enforce  on  the  colonists,  with  the 
result  that  they  were  hated,  abused,  resisted,  and  persecuted. 
John  says  that  after  having  preached  there,  not  as  he  ought, 
but  as  he  was  able,  one  year  and  nine  months,  he  shook  off 
the  dust  of  his  feet  and  left  Georgia.  Charles  had  been  glad 
to  sail  again  even  sooner  than  John.  Thus  the  colony  was 
without  a  chaplain,  and  the  experience  of  the  Trustees  might 
have  made  them  decide  to  meddle  no  more  with  spiritual 
guides. 

Yet  '  James  Oglethorpe,  Esq.,  and  the  Honourable  Trustees' 
received  the  young  preacher,  George  Whitefield,  with  kind- 
ness, when  he  appeared  before  them  early  in  March,  1737, 
desiring  an  appointment  in  their  colony  of  Georgia.  The 
Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  Bishop  of  London  both 
approved  of  Whitefield's  design ;  the  former  prelate,  however, 
expressing  himself  in   these  ungracious  words  :   '  I    shall  take 


42  GEORGE   WH1TEF1ELD 

particular  notice  of  such  as  go  to  Georgia,  if  they  do  not  go 
out  of  any  sinister  view.'  On  which  Whitefield  remarks : 
'This  put  me  upon  inquiry  what  were  my  motives  in  going: 
and,  after  the  strictest  examination,  my  conscience  answered — 
Not  to  please  any  man  living  upon  earth,  nor  out  of  any 
sinister  view;  but  simply  to  comply  with  what  I  believe  to 
be  Thy  will,  O  God,  and  to  promote  Thy  glory,  Thou  great 
Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls.' 

It  was  not  an  easy  thing  to  sail  to  a  distant  land  a  hundred 
and  sixty  years  ago.  A  prolonged  stay,  enforced  by  the  slow 
despatch  of  business,  or  by  the  absence  of  favourable  winds, 
often  gave  the  traveller  more  than  one  opportunity  of  saying 
farewell  to  his  friends  ;  and,  even  when  embarkation  fairly 
took  place,  it  was  no  guarantee  that  he  was  finally  gone.  A 
calm  might  land  him  at  any  port  on  the  British  shores,  and 
from  thence  he  was  sure  to  communicate  with  his  friends. 
Thus  it  happened  that  Whitefield,  after  his  appointment,  con- 
tinued three  weeks  in  London,  waiting  for  Mr.  Oglethorpe, 
who  was  expecting  to  sail  every  day  ;  and  then,  at  last,  quietly 
betook  himself  to  Stonehouse,  in  Gloucestershire,  to  supply  the 
place  of  a  clerical  friend,  who  went  to  London  on  business. 
Of  course  the  time  spent  in  the  metropolis  was  devoted  to 
preaching,  and  Stonehouse  was  to  prove  a  happier  Duraraer. 
His  meetings  in  private  houses  and  the  public  services 
in  the  church  were  both  attended  by  overflowing  congrega- 
tions.    It  was  a  time  of  much  spiritual  gladness  with  him. 

'  I  found,'  he  says,  '  uncommon  manifestations  granted  me  from  above. 
Early  in  the  morning,  at  noonday,  evening,  and  midnight,  nay,  all  the  day 
long,  did  the  blessed  Jesus  visit  and  refresh  my  heart.  Could  the  trees  of 
a  certain  wood  near  Stonehouse  speak,  they  would  tell  what  sweet  com- 
munion I  and  some  dear  souls  enjoyed  with  the  ever-blessed  God  there. 
Sometimes,  as  I  have  been  walking,  my  soul  would  make  such  sallies 
that  I  thought  it  would  go  out  of  the  body.  At  other  times  I  would  be  so 
overpowered  with  a  sense  of  God's  infinite  majesty,  that  I  would  be  con- 


MEETINGS  AND  PARTINGS  43 

strained  lo  throw  myself  prostrate  on  the  ground,  and  otier  my  soul  as  a 
blank  in  His  hands,  to  write  on  it  what  He  pleased.  One  night  was  a  time 
never  to  be  forgotten.  It  happened  to  lighten  exceedingly.  I  had  been 
expounding  to  many  people,  and  some  being  afraid  to  go  home,  I  thought 
it  my  duty  to  accompany  them,  and  improve  the  occasion,  to  stir  them  up 
to  prepare  for  the  second  coming  of  the  Son  of  man  ;  but  oh  !  what  did 
my  soul  feel  ?  On  my  return  to  the  parsonage-house,  whilst  others  were 
rising  from  their  beds,  and  frightened  almost  to  death,  to  see  the  lightning 
run  upon  the  ground,  and  shine  from  one  part  of  the  heaven  to  another, 
I  and  another,  a  poor  but  pious  countryman,  were  in  the  field  praising, 
praying  to,  and  exulting,  in  our  God,  and  longing  for  that  time  when  Jesus 
shall  be  revealed  from  heaven  in  a  flame  of  fire  !  O  that  my  soul  may 
be  in  a  like  frame  when  He  shall  actually  come  to  call  me  ! ' 

The  gentleness  and  sweetness  of  spring  also  had  their 
attractions  for  him  ;  it  was  early  in  May,  and  the  country,  he 
says,  'looked  to  me  like  a  second  paradise,  the  pleasantest 
place  I  ever  was  in  through  all  my  life.'  The  thought  of  leaving 
Stonehouse  people,  with  whom  he  '  agreed  better  and  better,' 
touched  his  affectionate  heart  not  a  little,  and  he  wrote  to 
a  friend  :  '  I  believe  we  shall  part  weeping.'  There  had  been 
but  a  month's  short  intercourse  with  them,  and  they  were  the 
flock  of  another  pastor  ;  but  it  was  Whitefi eld's  way  to  love 
people  and  to  labour  for  them  as  if  he  had  known  them  a  life- 
time, never  jealous  of  any  one,  nor  dreaming  that  any  one  could 
be  jealous  of  him  ;  and  when  he  took  his  leave  on  Ascension 
Day,  'the  sighs  and  tears,'  he  says,  'almost  broke  my  heart.' 

The  guest  whom  Stonehouse  was  sorry  to  part  with,  Bristol 
was  glad  to  receive ;  indeed  the  people  there,  gratefully  remem- 
bering Whitefield's  visit  to  them  in  February,  insisted  upon 
his  coming  to  see  them  again.  The  account  of  their  enthusiastic 
reception  of  him  reads  more  like  an  extract  from  the  journal 
of  a  conquering  general,  or  from  that  of  a  prince  on  a  progress 
through  his  provinces,  than  that  of  a  young  clergyman,  twenty- 
two  years  old.  Multitudes  on  foot  and  many  in  coaches  met 
him  a  mile  outside  the  city  gates  ;  and  as  he  passed  along  the 


44  GEOkGE   WHITEFlELD 

streets  in  the  midst  of  his  friends,  almost  every  one  saluted  and 
blessed  him.  The  general  joy  was  deepened  when,  to  his  own 
regret,  Mr.  Oglethorpe  sent  him  word  that  their  departure  for 
America  would  be  delayed  two  months  longer.  Bristol  was 
completely  under  the  spell  of  its  visitor,  or  rather  of  him  and 
the  doctrines  he  preached.  The  rich  forsook  their  comforts 
and  pleasures,  to  jostle  and  push  among  the  crowd  which  five 
times  every  week  besieged  the  church  where  Whitefield  was 
to  preach.  The  quiet  Quaker  left  the  unimpassioned  talk  of 
his  meeting-house  to  feel  the  thrill  of  oratory.  The  uncom- 
promising Nonconformist  left  his  chapel  for  the  church,  where 
he  had  too  often  failed  to  find  the  heart-searching  preaching 
which  alone  could  satisfy  his  wants,  but  where  he  was  now 
pierced  as  with  arrows,  and  healed  as  with  the  balm  of  Gilead. 
The  idle  worldling,  who  seldom  made  an  effort  to  be  interested 
in  anything,  shook  off  his  supineness  at  least  to  go  and  hear 
what  the  stranger  had  to  say.  The  vicious  and  depraved  strove 
for  a  place  where  they  might  hear  the  love  of  God  toward 
sinners,  the  greatness  and  preciousness  of  the  work  of  His  Son 
Jesus,  and  the  mighty  help  of  the  Holy  Ghost  in  the  hearts  of 
all  who  would  live  a  holy  life,  spoken  of  with  a  tenderness  and 
an  earnestness  befitting  themes  so  dear  to  them  in  their  abject 
condition.  The  broken-hearted  rejoiced  in  the  sympathetic 
feeling  of  a  teacher  who  knewT  all  their  sorrow.  The  mixed 
mass  of  hearers  filled  the  pews,  choked  the  aisles,  swarmed 
into  every  nook  and  corner,  hung  upon  the  rails  of  the  organ- 
loft,  climbed  upon  the  leads  of  the  church.  As  many  had  to 
turn  away  disappointed  as  had  gained  admission.  And  the 
preacher's  words  were  more  than  a  pleasant  sound,  much 
enjoyed  while  it  lasted,  and  soon  forgotten  when  it  ceased  ; 
they  struck  into  heart  and  conscience,  turning  the  wicked  man 
from  his  wickedness,  that  he  might  save  his  soul  alive,  and 
awakening  the  generous  emotiuns  of  all. 


PRACTICAL  RELIGION  45 

Whitefield  began  with  his  congregations  as  he  continued 
and  ended  with  them.  He  made  a  practical,  benevolent 
use  of  them ;  for  he  felt  that  our  profession  of  love  to 
God  is  but  a  mockery,  unless  it  be  connected  with  love 
to  one  another,  and  '  love  which  is  not  in  word,  but  in 
deed  and  in  truth.'  He  did  not  preach  to  please  his  hearers, 
and  they  must  not  come  to  be  pleased.  They  must  come 
to  know  their  duty,  as  well  as  their  privilege  in  the 
Gospel ;  and  so,  twice  or  thrice  every  week,  he  appealed 
to  them  on  behalf  of  the  prisoners  in  Newgate,  and  made 
collections.  Howard  had  not  yet  begun  his  holy  work  in 
our  gaols ;  but  the  temporal  and  spiritual  wants  of  prisoners 
never  failed  to  move  the  sympathy  of  Whitefield  and  the  early 
Methodists.  The  first  band  of  Methodists  had  a  special  fund 
for  the  prisoners  in  Oxford  gaol,  and  when  Whitefield  left  the 
University  he  had  the  disposing  of  it  and  the  chief  charge  of 
the  prisoners.  In  London  and  in  Gloucester  he  was  a  regular 
visitor  at  Newgate ;  and  in  Bristol  he  pursued  the  same  charit- 
able plan.  The  author  of  the  '  Life  and  Adventures  of  Oliver 
Goldsmith '  imagines  that  Dr.  Primrose  was  the  character 
which  suggested  prison  philanthropy ;  but  Goldsmith  much 
more  likely  got  the  suggestion  from  the  Methodists,  who  had 
been  already  at  work  in  prisons  some  thirty  years.  Joseph 
Alleine,  an  intimate  friend  of  Wesley's  grandfather,  preached  | 
to  prisoners  a  hundred  years  before  the  '  Vicar  of  Wakefield ' 
was  written. 

The  same  comprehensive  charity  was  displayed  towards  the 
poor  of  Georgia,  whose  faces  Whitefield  had  not  yet  seen. 
During  his  stay  at  Bristol  he  paid  a  visit  to  Bath,  where  his 
preaching  produced  as  deep  an  impression  as  in  the  sister  city, 
and  where  some  rich  ladies  gave  him  more  than  a  hundred 
and  sixty  pounds  for  the  poor  of  his  future  flock. 

If  parting  from  the  simple  peasants  of  Stonehouse  was  hard. 


46  GEORGE   WHITE  El  ELD 

it  could  not  be  easy  to  tear  himself  away  from  Bristol,  which 
offered  him  both  ample  means  and  affectionate  regard,  if  he 
would  continue  to  minister  in  its  churches.  For  the  money  he 
cared  nothing  ;  for  love  he  cared  everything. 

'June  21st,'  he  says,  'I  took  my  last  farewell  of  Bristol.  But  when  I 
came  to  tell  them  it  might  be  that  they  would  "  see  my  face  no  more," 
high  and  low,  young  and  old  burst  into  such  a  flood  of  tears  as  I  have 
never  seen  before  ;  drops  fell  from  their  eyes  like  rain,  or  rather  gushed  out 
like  water.  Multitudes,  after  sermon,  followed  me  home  weeping ;  and 
the  next  day  I  was  employed  from  seven  in  the  morning  till  midnight,  in 
talking  and  giving  spiritual  advice  to  awakened  souls.' 

As  he  had  heard  that  a  great  company  intended  to  see  him 
out  of  town  he  departed  early  in  the  morning  for  Gloucester, 
then  he  went  to  Oxford,  and  forward  to  London.  Thus  he 
had  two  or  three  leave-takings  at  various  places. 

This  popularity  inevitably  brought  trouble.  His  doctrine 
was  not  approved  of  by  all ;  and  thus,  under  the  pressure  of 
aspersions  from  enemies  and  entreaties  from  friends,  he  was 
induced  to  publish  his  sermon  on  '  Regeneration.'  It  contains 
a  statement  of  the  ordinary  evangelical  views  upon  that 
subject,  given  in  very  ordinary  language ;  only  two  sentences 
would  be  likely  to  catch  the  eye  of  any  one  who  might  read  the 
sermon  with  a  previous  understanding  of  the  preacher's  views. 
Once  he  makes  a  side-hit  at  metaphorical  interpreters  :  '  It  will 
be  well  if  they  do  not  interpret  themselves  out  of  their  salva- 
tion.' In  another  sentence  he  states  a  view  which  he  and  his 
contemporary  Methodist  friends — to  their  honour  be  it  said — 
always  carried  into  practice,  as  well  as  urged  in  their  preach- 
ing ;  he  says  :  '  The  sum  of  the  matter  is  this :  Christianity 
includes  morality,  as  grace  does  reason.'  Elsewhere  he  defines 
true  religion  in  these  strikingly  noble  words :  '  A  universal 
morality  founded  upon  the  love  of  God  and  faith  in  the  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.'     'The  only  Methodism,'  he  exclaims,  'I  desire 


RELIGION  AND  MORALITY  47 

to  know  is  a  holy  method  of  dying  to  ourselves,  and  of  living  to 
God.' 

The  prophets  themselves,  to  whom,  in  ancient  time,  was 
committed,  among  other  exalted  duties,  the  task  of  guarding  the 
morality  of  the  Hebrew  nation,  of  protesting  against  every  use 
of  the  ceremonial  law  and  of  the  temple  service  which  would 
degrade  religion  into  a  superstition,  and  the  apostles,  who 
never  failed  to  link  the  plainest  and  humblest  of  duties  with  the 
loftiest  doctrines  they  taught,  were  not  more  jealous  that  reli- 
gion and  morality  should  not  be  divorced  from  each  other,  than 
were  Whitefield  and  the  Wesleys.  The  ground  of  the  moderns 
was  taken  up  clearly  and  boldly  by  Whitefield  in  his  sermon 
just  referred  to,  and  throughout  his  whole  life  was  never  for  a 
moment  forsaken.  The  great  strength  of  the  new  movement 
lay,  not  in  the  advocacy  of  any  peculiar  doctrine,  but  in  the 
union  of  doctrine  and  precept,  of  privilege  and  responsibility. 
It  was  a  true  expression  of  the  apostle's  argument  to  the  Church 
at  Rome — the  doctrine  of  grace  united  with  purity  of  life.  So 
far  from  its  resting  alone  or  principally  upon  a  particular  doc- 
trine, Whitefield  and  Wesley  were  divided  upon  doctrine,  the 
one  holding  with  Arminius,  the  other  with  Calvin;  yet  their 
work,  even  after  the  rupture  between  them,  was  not  hindered 
or  destroyed,  but  carried  forward  with  as  much  vigour  and  as 
much  to  the  profit  of  mankind  as  ever.  Some  would  have 
morality  without  religion,  but  these  men  proclaimed  every- 
where that  religion  is  the  root  of  morality ;  that  every  man  needs 
the  renewing  power  of  the  Spirit  of  God  in  his  heart ;  and  that 
the  'fruit  of  the  Spirit  is  love,  joy,  peace,  long-suffering, 
gentleness,  goodness,  faith,  meekness,  temperance.' 

Whether  friends  and  enemies  did  Whitefield  a  service  by 
forcing  him  to  publish,  has  been  much  questioned ;  indeed, 
nearly  every  one  has  condemned  the  step.  Franklin  thought 
that  he  did  himself  an  abiding  injustice,  because  his  power  lay 


48  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

not  in  the  pen,  but  in  the  tongue ;  and  that  it  would  have  been 
better  for  his  reputation  had  he  allowed  only  the  reports  of  his 
genius  and  of  his  triumphs  to  be  kept  as  his  memorial  for 
succeeding  generations.  As  to  the  sermons,  perhaps  Franklin 
was  right ;  but  Whitefield  would  have  been  no  more  than  an 
idle  name  had  we  been  without  some  of  his  writings,  without 
his  journal,  pamphlets,  and  some  of  his  letters.  With  him  it 
was  no  consideration  what  might  be  thought  of  his  powers. 
During  his  life  he  never  gave  a  moment  to  recollect  whether  he 
had  any  literary  reputation  or  not ;  and  least  of  all  did  he 
hunger  after  posthumous  fame.  He  published  in  the  first 
instance,  because  he  wanted  to  clear  himself  of  aspersions,  and 
his  friends  wished  to  have  his  sermons  ;  and  in  the  second 
instance,  because  he  found  that  his  sermons  were  often  as  useful 
when  read  as  when  heard.  Many  weeping  eyes,  in  England,  in 
Scotland,  in  America,  in  the  hut  of  the  emigrant,  in  the  cottage 
of  the  peasant,  in  the  hall  of  the  nobleman,  once  eagerly 
searched  for  consolation  and  hope,  and  found  them  in  those 
pages  which  few  now  care  to  read,  excepting  curious  orators,  who 
want  to  find  out  the  secret  of  Whitefield's  power.  The  two  old 
volumes  have  a  touching  interest  when  their  history  is  remem- 
bered. They  speak  of  broken-hearted  penitents  and  of 
rejoicing  believers ;  and  this  alone  suffices  to  lend  them  an  air 
of  sanctity.  But  they  are  not  without  passion  and  directness. 
Intellectual  they  are  not ;  their  feebleness  becomes  their 
wonder.  It  would  be  a  profound  satisfaction  to  the  humble 
spirit  of  their  author  to  know  that  men  regard  them  as  'weak 
things ' ;  for,  remembering  how  they  once  prevailed  over  irre- 
ligion  and  vice,  and  over  cultivated,  thoughtful  minds,  he 
would  simply  say,  '  Then  hath  God  chosen  the  weak  things 
of  the  world  to  confound  the  mighty.'  And  God  still  uses 
them  unto  salvation. 

The  sermons  which  had  aroused  Bristol  and  Bath  were  next 


POPULARITY  AND  CONTEMPT  49 

preached  in  London,  whither  Whitefield  went  about  the  end  of 
August.  If  his  life  in  Bristol  had  been  busy  and  excited 
enough,  what  shall  be  said  of  the  'torrent  of  popularity  and 
contempt,'  as  he  calls  it,  that  swept  through  the  metropolis  ? 
His  intention  was  to  remain  in  perfect  retirement  and  devote 
himself,  until  the  time  of  his  departure  for  Georgia,  to  his  much- 
loved  employment  of  reading  and  praying  over  the  word  of 
God  upon  his  knees ;  but  his  soul  had  not  long  tasted  the 
sweetness  of  this  repose  when  invitations  to  preach  poured  in 
amain.  The  stewards  and  members  of  the  religious  societies 
(societies  which  did  religious,  moral,  and  social  work)  were 
remarkably  fond  of  hearing  him,  and  for  a  good  reason — he 
attracted  large  congregations,  and  got  large  collections. 
Friendly  clergymen — only  too  soon  to  forget  their  admiration — ■ 
wanted  help  in  their  services,  and  sought  it  from  this  willing 
worker.  The  churches  could  not  hold  the  people  ;  thousands 
went  away  for  want  of  room.  Then  the  churchwardens  and 
managers  of  the  charity  schools,  perceiving  the  effect  of  his 
preaching,  that  is  to  say,  its  money-effect,  thought  that  they 
must  have  a  share  of  the  harvest,  and  began  to  plead  with  him 
for  the  benefit  of  the  children.  For  three  months  the  stream 
of  people  flowed  steadily  towards  any  church  in  which  he 
might  be  ministering  ;  and  sometimes  constables  had  to  be 
placed  both  inside  and  outside  the  building,  to  preserve  order. 
Nine  times  a  week  did  Whitefield  engage  in  his  delightful  work 
of  preaching.  On  Sunday  morning  it  was  his  habit  to  rise  very 
early,  and  during  the  day  to  walk  many  miles  between  the 
various  churches  at  which  he  was  expected.  These  early 
sacraments,  which  called  him  out  before  daybreak,  'were,'  he 
says,  '  very  awful.  At  Cripplegate,  St.  Anne's,  and  Foster  Lane, 
O  how  often  have  we  seen  Jesus  Christ  crucified,  and  evi- 
dently set  forth  before  us  !  On  Sunday  mornings,  long  before 
day,  you  might  see  streets  filled  with  people  going  to  church, 

5 


50  GEORGE  WHITEF1ELD 

with  their  lanthorns  in  their  hands,  and  hear  them  conversing 
about  the  things  of  God.'  The  ordinary  congregations,  too, 
which  were  not  composed  of  such  persons  as  these  devout 
communicants,  but  of  all  kinds,  heard  the  word  'like  people 
hearing  for  eternity.' 

Such  popularity  quite  disturbed  the  usual  order  of  things. 
On  sacramental  occasions  fresh  elements  had  sometimes  to  be 
consecrated  twice  or  thrice.  The  stewards  had  larger  offerings 
than  they  could  conveniently  carry  to  the  table,  their  collec- 
tion boxes  or  bags  not  having  been  made  for  such  an  excep- 
tional time.  A  newsagent,  who  heard  of  what  was  doing  in 
the  religious  world,  thought  that  he  was  as  much  entitled  to 
turn  an  honest  penny  as  the  stewards ;  and  one  Monday 
morning,  when  Whitefield  was  quietly  taking  breakfast  with  a 
friend  at  the  Tower,  his  eye  caught  sight  in  the  newspaper  of  a 
paragraph  to  the  effect,  that  there  was  a  young  gentleman  going 
volunteer  to  Georgia ;  that  he  had  preached  at  St.  Swithin's, 
and  collected  eight  pounds,  instead  of  ten  shillings — three 
pounds  of  which  was  in  halfpence  (which  was  all  quite  true) ; 
and  that  he  was  to  preach  next  Wednesday  before  the  societies 
at  their  general  quarterly  meeting.  The  paragraph  chagrined 
Whitefield  very  much.  He  was  not  yet  inured  to  the  annoy- 
ances of  public  life,  and  he  requested  the  printer  not  to  put 
him  in  his  paper  again ;  but  his  only  comfort  was  the  printer's 
saucy  answer,  '  that  he  was  paid  for  doing  it,  and  that  he  would 
not  lose  two  shillings  for  anybody,'  and  a  full  church — Bow 
Church  it  was — on  the  following  Wednesday. 

As  popularity  and  usefulness  increased,  opposition  increased 
proportionately.  The  ground  which  it  took  was  extraordinary, 
it  being  actually  urged  that  these  crowds  which  followed 
Whitefield  interfered  with  the  attendance  at  church  of  regular 
parishioners  ;  further,  that  the  pews  were  spoiled  ;  next,  that 
he  was  a  spiritual  pickpocket  ;  and  finally,  that  he  made  use 


THE  CLERGY  51 

of  a  charm  to  get  the  people's  money — which  was  perfectly 
true.  And  the  clergy — some  of  them,  at  least — who  had 
listened  and  admired,  grew  angry  and  spiteful.  The  charmer, 
it  was  rumoured,  would  be  silenced  by  the  bishop,  upon  the 
complaint  of  the  clergy ;  the  pickpocket  would  be  hindered 
from  plying  his  thievish  arts. 

But  Whitefield  was  not  a  man  to  tremble  under  a  threat,  or 
grow  pale  at  a  rumour.  He  had  a  native  pugnacity,  not  yet 
humbled  and  subdued  ;  and  quickly  did  he  show  his  enemies 
that  he  could  fight  as  well  as  preach  and  pray,  and  that 
silencing  him  would  be  a  difficult  thing.  He  at  once  waited 
upon  the  bishop,  and  asked  whether  any  complaint  had  been 
lodged  against  him ;  the  bishop  answered  that  there  was  none. 
He  asked  his  lordship  whether  any  objection  could  be  made 
to  his  doctrine,  and  the  bishop  replied,  '  No ;  for  I  know  a 
clergyman  who  has  heard  you  preach  a  plain  scriptural 
sermon.'  Whitefield  then  asked  his  lordship  whether  he  would 
grant  him  a  licence,  and  the  answer  was,  '  You  need  none, 
since  you  are  going  to  Georgia.'  'Then,'  said  Whitefield, 
'you  would  not  forbid  me  ? '  The  bishop  gave  a  satisfactory 
answer,  and  Whitefield  took  his  leave. 

Whitefield,  too  prone  at  this  time  to  judge  others,  had,  in 
part,  broken  with  his  profession.  Some  of  them  he  had  cen- 
sured ;  and  they  had  replied  by  shutting  their  churches  against 
him.  Others  attempted  to  crush  him  by  means  of  pamphlets. 
He  was  denounced  for  fraternising  with  Dissenters;  one 
clergyman  called  him  'a  pragmatical  rascal,' and  'vehemently 
inveighed  against  him  and  the  whole  body  of  Dissenters 
together.'  His  intimacy  with  Dissenters,  it  is  true,  was  great, 
and  lasted  throughout  the  whole  of  his  life.  The  grounds  of 
it  were  honourable  to  both  parties  concerned.  The  piety  and 
zeal  of  the  preacher  drew  the  pious  of  other  denominations  to 
hear  him  ;  and  in  their  houses,  to  which  they  kindly  invited 


52  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

him,  and  he  as  kindly  went,  they  assured  him, '  that  if  the  doc- 
trine of  the  new  birth  and  justification  by  faith  were  powerfully 
preached  in  the  Church,  there  would  be  but  few  Dissenters  in 
England.'  Whitefield  found  their  conversation  '  savoury,'  and 
thinking  that  his  practice  of  visiting  and  associating  with  them 
was  agreeable  to  Scripture,  he  judged  that  '  the  best  way  to 
bring  them  over  was  not  by  bigotry  and  railing,  but  moderation 
and  love,  and  undissembled  holiness  of  life.' 

The  end  of  these  London  labours,  which  were  only  part  of 
an  interlude,  came  at  Christmas,  1737.  Anxious  to  get  to  his 
Georgian  charge,  and  an  opportunity  offering  by  a  transport 
ship,  which  was  about  to  sail  with  a  number  of  soldiers,  he 
determined  at  once  to  start.  His  purpose  wounded  the  hearts 
of  thousands  ;  prayers  were  offered  for  him  ;  the  people  would 
embrace  him  in  the  church  ;  wistful  looks  would  follow  him  as 
he  went  home.  A  solemn,  weeping  communion  celebrated  the 
final  parting. 

He  left  the  charity  schools  one  thousand  pounds  richer  by 
his  labours,  and  he  carried  more  than  three  hundred  pounds 
with  him  for  the  poor  of  Georgia.  He  ever,  from  the  first 
voyage  to  the  thirteenth,  crossed  the  Atlantic  guarded  by  the 
prayers  of  thousands,  and  freighted  with  their  benevolent  gifts. 

On  December  28th  Whitefield  left  London,  and  on  the  30th 
went  on  board  the  Whitaker  at  Purfleet.  His  labours  now 
were  divided  between  the  ship  and  the  shore,  the  former  con- 
taining the  companions  of  his  voyage,  the  latter  having  the 
presence  of  friends,  who  followed  him  from  point  to  point,  till 
he  got  out  to  sea,  and  who  were  always  ready  to  engage  him  in 
some  religious  duties.  Great  kindness  and  prudence  marked 
his  conduct  among  the  men  of  the  ship  from  the  first  day  he 
went  on  board.  He  attended  them  in  sickness,  taught  them, 
and  catechised  them.  To  the  officers,  both  naval  and  military, 
he  showed  marked  deference,  and  allowed  not  his  zeal  to  carry 


WINNING  SOLDIERS  AND  SAILORS  53 

him  into  any  unwise  attempts  to  force  religion  upon  their  atten- 
tion. He  was  as  attentive  to  teach  a  few  soldiers  or  a  few 
women  the  catechism  as  he  had  been  zealous  for  the  crowds  of 
London.  At  night  he  would  walk  on  the  deck  that  he  might 
have  an  opportunity  of  speaking  quietly  to  some  officers  whom 
he  wanted  to  gain  over  to  the  service  of  God,  or  go  down  into 
the  steerage  where  the  sailors  were  congregated,  that  he  might 
be  as  one  of  them.  He  soon  became  a  favourite.  The  captain 
of  the  ship  gave  him  the  free  use  of  his  cabin,  the  military 
captain  was  friendly,  and  so  were  the  rest  of  the  officers.  At 
length,  prayers  were  read  daily  in  the  great  cabin ;  and,  at  the 
request  of  the  captain,  Whitefield  preached  to  the  'gentlemen.' 
Until  they  left  Deal  on  January  30th,  he  also  regularly  preached 
on  shore  in  a  house,  and  the  congregations  became  so  large 
that  the  preaching  room  had  to  be  propped  up.  It  seems  that 
'  running  '  and  buying  '  run  goods  '  was  a  '  sin  that  did  most 
easily  beset  the  Deal  people  '  of  that  day ;  and  though  White- 
field  took  care  to  show  them  'the  absolute  unlawfulness'  of 
their  deeds,  yet  they  still  waited  on  his  word. 

The  same  morning  that  he  sailed  from  Deal,  John  Wesley 
arrived  there  from  Georgia.  On  reaching  shore,  Wesley  learned 
that  his  friend  was  in  a  vessel  in  the  offing,  bound  for  Georgia. 
From  some  cause  or  other,  Wesley  deemed  it  necessary  to  take- 
some  steps  to  know  whether  Whitefield  ought  to  continue  his 
voyage.  His  method  of  deciding  the  difficulty  was  by  sortilege, 
a  practice  which  he  long  continued,  but  one  which  Whitefield 
never  followed.  He  even  resorted  to  it  in  the  dispute  between 
himself  and  Whitefield  on  the  subjects  of  election  and  free- 
grace.  In  a  letter  addressed  to  Wesley,  in  reply  to  Wesley's 
sermon  on  free-grace,  Whitefield  said  about  the  Deal  lot — 

'  The  morning  I  sailed  from  Deal  to  Gibraltar  you  arrived  from  Geoigia. 
Instead  of  giving  me  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  you,  though  the  ship 
was  not  far  off  the  shore,  you  drew  a  lot,  and  immediately  set  forwards  to 


54  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

London.  You  left  a  letter  behind  you,  in  which  were  words  to  this  effect : 
"  When  I  saw  God,  by  the  wind  which  was  carrying  you  out  brought  me 
in,  I  asked  counsel  of  God.  His  answer  you  have  inclosed."  This  was  a 
piece  of  paper,  in  which  were  written  these  words  :  "  Let  him  return  to 
London." 

'  When  I  received  this,  I  was  somewhat  surprised.  Here  was  a  good 
man  telling  me  he  had  cast  a  lot,  and  that  God  would  have  me  return  to 
London.  On  the  other  hand,  I  knew  that  my  call  was  to  Georgia,  and  that 
I  had  taken  leave  of  London,  and  could  not  justly  go  from  the  soldiers  who 
were  committed  to  my  charge.  I  betook  myself  with  a  friend  to  prayer. 
That  passage  in  the  First  Book  of  Kings,  chapter  xiii.,  was  powerfully 
impressed  upon  my  soul,  where  we  are  told,  "  That  the  prophet  was  slain 
by  a  lion,  that  was  tempted  to  go  back  (contrary  to  God's  express  order) 
upon  another  prophet's  telling  him  God  would  have  him  do  so."  I  wrote 
you  word  that  I  could  not  return  to  London.  We  sailed  immediately. 
Some  months  after  I  received  a  letter  from  you  at  Georgia,  wherein  you 
wrote  words  to  this  effect  :  "Though  God  never  before  gave  me  a  wrong 
lot,  yet,  perhaps,  He  suffered  me  to  have  such  a  lot  at  that  time,  to  try 
what  was  in  your  heart."  I  should  never  have  published  this  private 
transaction  to  the  world  did  not  the  glory  of  God  call  me  to  it.' 

It  was  well,  for  the  sake  of  every  one,  and  for  the  sake  of 
religion,  that  Whitefield  was  not  so  superstitious  as  his  friend, 
and  that  he  was  not  turned  from  a  sober  purpose  by  a  ridiculous 
chance.  His  return  to  London  would  have  demanded  public 
explanation,  and  what  could  he  have  said  but  this  :  '  John 
Wesley  drew  a  lot,  on  which  were  these  words  :  "  Let  him 
return  to  London ; "  and  so  I  am  here  ? '  Then  all  the 
sensible  part  of  his  congregation  would  either  have  lost  confi- 
dence in  him,  or  have  become  as  foolish  as  himself;  and 
enemies,  who  were  rapidly  multiplying,  would  have  assailed 
him  with  irresistible  force.  All  his  prayers,  resolutions,  tears, 
and  ponderings,  would  have  been  covered  with  shame  and 
confusion,  and  he  could  never  have  become  a  leader,  since 
men  will  follow  only  the  decided  and  consistent.  Wesley  him- 
self, notwithstanding  his  blind  faith  in  lots,  would  not  have 
been  turned  from  his  purpose  by  a  dozen  of  them  drawn  by  a 
friend,  had  he  been  so  far  and  so  openly  committed  as  was 


DEL  TGHT  IN  NA  TURE  5  5 

Whitefield.  One  short  answer  would  have  cut  through  the 
difficulty — '  My  friend  may  draw  lots  for  himself,  but  not  for 
me  ;  at  this  rate  everybody  will  be  trying  to  divine  my  duty, 
and  the  contradictory  answers  will  leave  me  in  hopeless 
embarrassment.' 

So  few  are  the  references,  in  Whitefield's  journal  or  letters, 
to  the  manners  of  the  people  among  whom  he  stayed,  or  to  the 
scenery  through  which  he  passed  in  his  travels,  that  it  is  a 
pleasure  to  extract  any  that  he  made,  as  a  proof  that  his  was 
not  a  dull  soul  without  delight  in  nature,  without  responsive- 
ness to  the  soft  sweetness  of  a  southern  sky,  or  to  the  wildness 
and  majesty  of  a  storm.  The  following  account  of  his  feelings 
as  he  approached  Gibraltar  is  given  in  his  first  journal : — 

'Saturday,  February  iSth. — Though  the  weather  was  exceedingly 
pleasant  all  the  day,  yet  it  grew  more  and  more  pleasant  in  the  evening, 
and  our  ship  sailed  at  the  rate  of  nine  miles  an  hour,  and  as  steady  as 
though  we  were  sitting  on  shore.  The  night  was  exceedingly  clear,  and 
the  moon  and  stars  appeared  in  their  greatest  lustre  ;  so  that,  not  having 

patience  to  stay  below,  I  went  upon  deck  with  friend  H and  praised 

God  for  His  wonderful  lovingkindness  in  singing  Psalms,  and  gave  thanks 
for  the  blessings,  and  asked  pardon  for  the  offences,  of  the  week,  and  then 
had  a  long  intercession. 

'  It  is  worth  coming  from  England  to  see  what  we  have  beheld  this  day. 

'  Sunday,  February  19th. — Slept  better  to-night  than  I  have  a  long  while  ; 
blessed  be  the  Keeper  of  Israel  !  Read  prayers  in  the  great  cabin  ;  was 
enlarged  in  expounding  both  the  lessons  to  the  soldiers ;  and  had  prayers, 
and  preached  one  of  the  sermons  God  enabled  me  to  make  since  I  came  on 
board,  on  open  deck  in  the  afternoon.  All  the  gentlemen  attended  ; 
benches  were  laid  for  the  people ;  and  the  ship  sailed  smoothly,  and  the 
weather  was  finer  than  I  can  express,  so  that  I  know  not  where  I  have  per- 
formed the  service  more  comfortably.  And,  indeed,  I  have  been  so 
delighted  these  two  days  with  our  pleasant  sailing  and  the  promontories  all 
around  us,  that  I  could  not  avoid  thanking  God  for  calling  me  abroad, 
and  stirring  up  all  to  praise  Him,  "  who  by  His  strength  setteth  fast  the 
mountains,  and  is  girded  about  with  power.'" 

On  February  20th  the  Whitaker  reached  Gibraltar.  \\*hitc- 
field  thought  it  was  '  the  world  in  epitome ' ;  he  might  have 


56  GEORGE   WH1TEFIELD 

added,  the  Church  too ;  for  Dissenters  and  Churchmen,  '  New 
Lights'  and  'Dark  Lanthorns,'  Jews  and  Roman  Catholics, 
were  on  the  rock.  The  '  New  Lights '  were  an  interesting 
company  of  soldiers,  gathered  into  a  society  by  a  sergeant,  who 
for  twelve  years  had  been  their  leader.  Their  meetings  were 
first  held  in  'dens  and  mountains  and  caves  of  the  rocks,'  but 
afterwards,  on  applying  for  leave  to  build  a  little  sanctuary  of 
their  own,  the  minister  of  the  church  and  the  governor  wisely 
and  generously  gave  them  the  free  use  of  the  church. 

A  few  days  sufficed  to  make  Whitefield  as  popular  with  the 
soldiers  as  he  had  been  with  the  sailors,  with  the  townspeople 
as  he  was  with  the  garrison.  Officers  and  soldiers  crowded  the 
church  when  he  preached ;  and  at  the  governor's  table,  where 
he  had  dreaded  being  treated  with  more  than  sober  hospitality, 
'  all  the  officers  behaved  with  such  a  decent,  innocent  manner ' 
that  they  pleased  him  very  much.  They  were  studious  to 
oblige  him,  and  solicitous  for  him  to  stay ;  but  his  face  was  set 
to  go  to  Georgia.  Many  of  the  inhabitants  pressed  him  to 
stay  with  them,  and  for  his  sake  treated  the  friends  who 
journeyed  with  him  with  marked  kindness. 

None  of  this  popularity  was  won  at  the  expense  of  fidelity. 
While  all  were  crowding  to  hear  him,  he  eagerly  embraced  the 
opportunity  of  reproving  them  for  the  sin  of  drunkenness,  the 
sin  of  the  place,  and  for  profane  swearing.  His  presence  and 
labours  created  so  much  excitement  that  even  the  chief  of  the 
Jews  came  to  hear  him  on  the  latter  subject.  Not  knowing 
this,  Whitefield  next  day  attended  the  synagogue,  and  was 
astonished  when  the  presiding  elder  came  to  him  and  con- 
ducted him  to  a  chief  seat,  as  a  mark  of  honour  for  his  having 
preached  so  well,  according  to  Jewish  ideas,  against  the  sin  of 
profaning  the  Divine  name.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church 
was  also  visited ;  but  everything  there  was  contrary  to  the 
simplicity  which  the  plain  Methodist  loved. 


CONFLICTS  AND  COMFORTS  57 

The  stay  at  Gibraltar  lasted  thirteen  days,  and  on  the  last 
day  of  it  many  came  to  Whitefield,  weeping,  to  tell  him  what 
God  had  done  for  their  souls,  to  ask  for  his  prayers,  and  to 
promise  him  theirs  in  return.  Others  sent  him  presents  of 
cake,  wine,  figs,  eggs,  and  other  necessaries  for  his  voyage.  Two 
hundred  soldiers,  women,  officers,  and  others  stood  on  the 
beach  to  see  him  go  on  board,  and  wish  him  '  good  luck  in  the 
name  of  the  Lord.' 

The  results  of  his  work  he  thus  summed  up  :  '  Many  that 
were  quite  stark  blind  have  received  their  sight ;  many  that  had 
fallen  back  have  repented  and  turned  unto  the  Lord  again  ; 
many  that  were  ashamed  to  own  Christ  openly  have  waxen 
bold  ;  and  many  that  were  saints  have  had  their  hearts  filled 
with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.'  His  labours  on  the  ship 
also  reformed  the  swearing  captain  and  many  of  the  soldiers. 

In  the  next  portion  of  the  voyage  fever  broke  out  on  the 
ship,  and  carried  off  two  of  the  worst  men  on  board  ;  White- 
field  was  struck  down  for  several  days.    To  a  friend  he  writes : — 

'  How  goes  time  ?  I  can  scarce  tell  ;  for  I  have  been  some  time  past,  as 
one  would  think,  launching  into  eternity.  God  has  been  pleased  to  visit 
me  with  a  violent  fever,  which  He,  notwithstanding,  so  sweetened  by 
Divine  consolations,  that  I  was  enabled  to  rejoice  and  sing  in  the  midst  of 
it.  Indeed,  I  had  many  violent  conflicts  with  the  powers  of  darkness,  who 
did  all  they  could  to  disturb  and  distract  me  ;  and  though  I  was  once 
reduced  to  the  last  extremity,  and  all  supernatural  assistance  seemed  to  be 
suspended  for  awhile,  and  Satan,  as  it  were,  had  dominion  over  me,  yet 
God  suffered  not  my  faith  to  fail,  but  came  in  at  length  to  my  aid,  rebuked 
the  tempter,  and  from  that  moment  I  grew  better.  Surely  God  is  preparing 
me  for  something  extraordinary ;  for  He  has  now  sent  me  such  extra- 
ordinary conflicts  and  comforts  as  I  never  before  experienced.  I  was,  as  I 
thought,  on  the  brink  of  eternity.  I  had  heaven  within  me  ;  I  thought  of 
nothing  in  this  world  ;  I  earnestly  desired  to  be  dissolved  and  go  to  Christ ; 
but  God  was  pleased  to  order  it  otherwise,  and  I  am  resigned,  though  I  can 
scarce  be  reconciled  to  come  back  again  into  this  vale  of  misery.  ...  I 
would  write  more,  but  my  strength  faileth  me.  We  hope  to  be  at  Savannah 
on  Monday.' 


58  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

Whitefield's  farewell  sermon  to  the  soldiers  was  preached  on 
May  6th,  and  caused  much  weeping.  On  the  evening  of  the 
following  day  he  reached  Savannah,  where  he  was  welcomed 
by  Mr.  Delamotte,  the  friend  whom  Wesley  left  behind  him, 
and  some  other  '  pious  souls,'  who  were  rejoiced  at  his  arrival, 
and  joined  him  in  thanksgiving  and  prayer. 


CHAPTER  IV 
1738 

ROUGH    EXPERIENCES    IN    GEORGIA — SECOND    VOYAGE 

WHITEFIELD,  on  his  arrival  at  Savannah,  knew 
nothing  of  the  circumstances  under  which  his  friend 
Wesley  had  left  it.  The  whole  story  was  related  to  him, 
and  he  wisely  determined  to  act  as  if  nothing  of  an  unhappy 
kind  had  occurred  ;  he  would  not  even  make  any  record  of  it 
in  his  journal.  Full  of  loving  anxiety  to  do  his  work  well, 
and  heartily  believing  that  the  gospel  he  preached  could 
promote  peace  and  harmony,  he  never  gave  a  thought  to 
the  unhappy  past,  in  which  his  friends  had,  though  not 
without  provocation,  received  harsh  treatment,  but  began  early 
and  zealously  to  preach  and  to  teach.  At  five  o'clock  on 
the  morning  after  his  arrival  he  read  public  prayers,  and 
expounded  the  second  lesson  to  a  congregation  of  seventeen 
adults  and  twenty-five  children.  Such  was  the  exchange  for 
crowded  churches  in  England  ! 

In  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day,  Mr.  Causton,  Wesley's 
keen  enemy,  sent  word  that  he  and  the  magistrates  would 
wait  upon  Whitefield,  but  Whitefield  chose  to  wait  upon  them, 
a  courtesy  which  could  hardly  fail  to  prepare  the  way  for 
kindly    intercourse.     The    interview    was     marked    by    much 

50 


6o 

GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

'  civility  '  shown  to  the  new  chaplain ;  and  the  principal  part 
of  the  conversation  was  upon  the  place  of  his  settlement. 
The  magistrates  were  as  diplomatic  as  civil ;  for  it  was  resolved 
that  the  place  should  be  Frederica,  where  a  house  and 
tabernacle  were  to  be  built  for  him — then  they  themselves 
would  not  run  the  risk  of  any  trouble  with  him — but  that 
he  '  should  serve  at  Savannah,  when,  and  as  long  as  he 
pleased.'  Thus  they  avoided  raising  a  contention  with  him, 
by  not  arbitrarily  sending  him  away  from  the  principal  place. 
They  had  evidently  learned  the  secret  of  conceding  for  the 
sake  of  getting ;  but,  in  the  present  case,  their  caution  was 
needless. 

The  ship-fever  had  not  quite  left  Whitefield  when,  with  his 
usual  promptness,  he  arranged  the  plan  of  his  work  and  made 
a  beginning.  His  first  week  in  Savannah  was  spent  in  con- 
finement, and,  on  the  second  Sunday,  his  attempt  to  officiate 
broke  down  before  he  reached  the  second  service ;  but  on 
the  following  Tuesday  he  was  out  at  his  pastoral  work,  and 
made  a  call  on  Tomo  Chici,  the  Indian  king,  who  had  refused 
to  become  a  Christian,  on  the  ground  that  Christians  were 
such  bad  wretches.  There  can  be  no  doubt,  however,  that 
he  had  no  fitness,  though  much  zeal,  for  preaching  to  the 
Indians. 

For  oratory  there  was  little  scope  in  Georgia,  where  a 
congregation  of  one  or  two  hundred  persons  was  the  largest 
that  could  be  mustered ;  but  there  was  ample  room  for 
industry,  for  humility,  for  gentleness,  and  for  self-denial ;  and 
Whitefield,  by  his  assiduous  cultivation  of  these  graces,  showed 
that  he  cared  more  for  charity  than  for  the  gift  of  speaking 
'  with  the  tongues  of  men  and  of  angels.'  Oratory  was  nothing 
to  him  as  an  art  ;  it  was  supremely  valuable  as  a  talent  to 
be  used  for  his  Lord,  an  instrument  by  which  hearts  might  be 
drawn   to   the  cross.      He  went  among   the  villages,  like  a 


AMONG  THE  SETTLERS  61 

travelling  missionary  in  a  heathen  country ;  made  himself  the 
friend  of  every  one  in  them,  men,  women,  and  children,  no 
matter  what  their  nation  or  their  creed ;  praised  their  industry 
and  success  ;  reproved  their  faults ;  and  invited  them  to  trust 
in  Him  who  could  save  them  from  their  sins.  He  was 
scrupulously  careful  not  to  offend  the  religious  or  national 
prejudices  of  any,  and  strove  to  draw  all  by  the  cords  of 
love.  It  is  easy  to  believe  that  a  chaplain  whose  heart  was 
touched  with  the  colonists'  every  sorrow,  who  entered  into 
their  difficulties,  who  came  to  cheer  them  at  their  work,  and 
sit  as  one  of  them  in  their  huts,  where  the  children  gathered 
round  his  knee,  and  the  workers  talked  about  the  soil  and  the 
crops,  was  loved  as  a  personal  friend.  As  such  they  looked 
upon  him.  The  love  which  won  Dummer,  Bristol,  London, 
and  Gibraltar  was  simply  repeating  its  inevitable  conquests. 
His  dauntless  and  brotherly  spirit,  which  still  retained  a  touch 
f  the  asceticism  of  his  Oxford  days,  made  him  resolve  to 
endure  the  worst  hardships  of  colonial  life.  The  weather  was 
intensely  hot,  sometimes  burning  him  almost  through  his 
shoes ;  and  '  seeing  others  do  it  who,'  he  says,  '  were  as 
unable,  I  determined  to  inure  myself  to  hardiness  by  lying 
on  the  ground,  which,  by  use,  I  found  to  be  so  far  from  being 
hardship,  that  afterwards  it  became  so  to  lie  on  a  bed.'  With 
this  endurance  he  combined  the  charming  quality  of  gratitude 
for  any  kindness  either  to  himself  or  his  friends. 

The  settlers  in  the  village  had  but  a  hard  lot.  Their 
children  offered  the  best  field  for  Whitefield's  efforts,  and 
he  at  once  arranged  to  begin  schools  for  them. 

'  I  also,'  he  says,  '  inquired  into  the  state  of  their  children,  and  found 
there  were  many  who  might  prove  useful  members  of  the  colony,  if  there 
was  a  proper  place  provided  for  their  maintenance  and  education.  Nothing 
can  effect  this  but  an  orphan-house,  which  might  easily  be  erected  at,  or 
near,  Savannah,  would  some  of  those  that  are  rich  in  this  world's  good 


62  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

contribute  towards  it.  May  God,  in  His  due  time,  stir  up  the  wills  of 
His  faithful  people  to  be  ready  to  distribute,  and  willing  to  communicate 
on  this  commendable  occasion.' 

The  following  extract  shows  the  need  of  the  flock  and  the 
tender-heartedness  of  the  shepherd :  '  Began  to-day  visiting 
from  house  to  house,  and  found  the  people  in  appearance 
desirous  of  being  fed  with  the  sincere  milk  of  the  word,  and 
solicitous  for  my  continuance  amongst  them.  Poor  creatures  ! 
My  heart  ached  for  them,  because  I  saw  them  and  their/ 
children    scattered  abroad  as  sheep  having  no  shepherd.' 

The  first  of  these  extracts  points  to  the  inference  that  the 
idea  of  an  orphan-house  for  the  colony  was  Whitefield's  own, 
and  many  of  his  friends  who  helped  him  gave  him  the  credit 
of  it ;  but  he  was  frank  in  undeceiving  them,  and  in  giving  the 
praise  to  Charles  Wesley  and  the  humane  governor,  General 
Oglethorpe.  Before  he  had  thought  of  going  abroad,  they  had 
seen  and  felt  the  necessity  of  some  provision  being  made  for 
the  orphans,  who  must  inevitably  be  thrown  upon  the  colony 
when  their  parents  died  and  left  them  unprovided  for.  A 
scheme  somewhat  like  the  one  which  was  ultimately  adopted 
was  devised,  but,  though  the  Wesleys  made  its  practical 
accomplishment  impossible,  yet  the  idea  was  not  abandoned. 
Whitefield  was  entreated  by  his  friend  Charles  Wesley  to 
remember  the  orphans  ;  and  such  a  call  was  never  made  in 
vain  upon  him.  He  'resolved,  in  the  strength  of  God,  to 
prosecute  the  orphan-house  design  with  all  his  might.'  The 
Trustees,  acting  no  doubt  at  the  suggestion  of  Oglethorpe, 
favoured  him. 

When  he  reached  his  charge  he  found  that  the  condition  of 
the  orphans  was  deplorable,  all  the  kindness  of  the  Trustees 
notwithstanding.  Some  were  quartered  here  and  there  with 
such  families  as  had  promised,  for  a  money  consideration, 
to  take  them  and  rear  them.     Others  were  en^a^ed  in  service 


DETERMINES  TO  BUILD  AN  ORPHAN-HOUSE     63 

when  they  ought  to  have  been  at  school,  and  were  kept  at 
work  so  long  and  so  hard,  that  educating  them  in  their  present 
position  was  impossible.  The  morals  of  all  were  corrupted  by 
bad  example  ;  the  learning  of  those  who  had  learned  anything 
at  all  was  forgotten.  There  was  but  one  feasible  plan  for 
curing  the  mischief:  a  home  must  be  built,  and  the  children 
must  be  lodged,  fed,  clothed,  and  taught  in  it.  Meanwhile, 
until  he  could  return  to  England  to  take  priest's  orders,  and 
procure  a  grant  of  land  from  the  Trustees,  and  beg  money 
enough  to  build  the  home,  and  give  it  a  start,  he  wisely 
did  what  he  could  to  ameliorate  the  condition  of  them  and 
of  all  other  children  by  establishing  schools  in  the  villages. 

The  moral  influence  of  the  orphan-house,  the  establishment 
of  which  was  now  his  fixed  purpose,  was  to  prove  as  great  and 
as  happy  over  Whitefield  as  over  the  destitute  children.  He 
was  to  receive  as  much  as  he  gave.  It  was  to  be  a  standing 
appeal  to  his  tenderness  and  test  of  his  faith,  a  constant  spur 
to  his  effort,  and  an  anchor  to  his  excitable  mind,  which  might 
have  spent  itself  upon  trifles,  because  unable  to  cope  with  the 
statesmanlike  work  which  the  legislative  mind  of  Wesley 
gloried  in  mastering.  It  was  to  become  the  ballast  of  a  noble 
ship  which  had  to  carry  high  sail  in  dangerous  seas.  So  far  as 
good  to  himself  was  concerned,  there  was  no  reason  why  he 
should  have  been  sent  to  his  '  little  foreign  cure,'  in  which  he 
was  really  happy,  and  where  (such  was  his  humility  and  care- 
lessness about  popularity)  he  could  have  cheerfully  remained, 
excepting  to  undertake  the  charge  of  the  orphans.  Saving 
this,  he  did  nothing  in  Georgia  which  he  might  not  have  done 
elsewhere,  and  done  better.  But  it  is  remarkable  to  observe 
how  the  door  of  America  was  closed  against  Wesley,  whose 
talents  were  most  serviceable  when  concentrated  on  one 
place;  while  Whitefield  received  a  charge  which  supplied  a 
constant  motive  to  him  to  range  through  every  country  where 


64  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

he  could  get  a  congregation  to  hear  his  message  and  help  his 
work.  He  was  meant  for  more  than  a  parish  priest  or  founder 
of  a  denomination  ;  he  was  an  evangelist  of  nations. 

The  journal  of  Whitefield  on  Wednesday,  May  24th,  and 
the  journal  of  Wesley  on  the  same  day,  present  a  striking 
contrast  as  well  between  the  condition  of  mind  as  the  work 
of  these  much  attached  friends.  It  was  a  quiet  day  with 
Whitefield  ;  and  doubtless  could  Wesley  have  seen  him  going 
among  the  people  with  a  contented  heart,  welcomed  and 
honoured,  he  would  have  been  both  surprised  and  gratified 
with  his  unexpected  success.  It  was  a  day  of  excitement, 
of  anguish,  and  of  joy  with  Wesley,  the  day  of  his  conversion  ; 
and  could  Whitefield  have  known  what  was  going  on  in 
Aldersgate  Street,  London,  it  would  have  filled  his  mouth  with 
joyful  praise,  though  he  might  have  been  surprised  that  not 
until  a  time  so  late  had  his  former  religious  teacher  come  to 
experience  the  same  spiritual  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
himself  long  before. 

While  Whitefield,  by  his  unceasing  labours,  his  unfeigned 
humility,  and  his  judicious  conduct,  was  laying  the  foundation 
of  an  enduring  affection  between  the  whole  colony  and 
himself,  he  acknowledged  himself  to  be  largely  indebted  to 
his  predecessors.  Delamotte  was  much  beloved  by  the  poor, 
to  whom  he  was  devoted,  and  his  return  home  was  an  occasion 
of  grief  to  them.  '  The  good  Mr.  John  Wesley  has  done  in 
America,  under  God,  is  inexpressible,'  says  Whitefield.  '  His 
name  is  very  precious  among  the  people ;  and  he  has  laid 
such  a  foundation  among  the  people  that  I  hope  neither  men 
nor  devils  will  ever  be  able  to  shake.  Surely  I  must  labour 
most  heartily,  since  I  come  after  such  worthy  predecessors.' 

It  is  pleasantest  to  see  how  he  was  welcomed  in  the  villages  ; 
how  they  of  Savannah  delighted  in  his  visits,  even  enduring 
his  rebukes  without  murmuring  ;  how  at  Frederica  nearly  the 


A   DANGEROUS    VOYAGE  65 

whole  of  the  inhabitants — a  hundred  and  twenty  in  number — 
came  to  hear  him  preach,  and  the  settlement  was  all  activity 
to  build  a  preaching-room,  to  serve  the  place,  pro  tempore 
of  a  church  ;  how  the  sturdy  Highlanders  of  Darien,  settled 
under  the  pastoral  care  of  a  worthy  minister  named  McLeod, 
crowded  the  house  in  which  he  preached  to  them  at  the  end 
of  a  single  day's  visit ;  and  how  the  Salzburgers  who  were 
settled,  after  weary  wanderings  over  land  and  sea,  at  a  place 
which  their  grateful  hearts  called  Ebenezer,  received  him  with 
brotherly  love.  Their  lands  were  the  best  cultivated  in  the 
colony,  and  yielded  the  best  crops.  Their  differences  were 
referred  not  to  any  court,  but  to  the  judgment  of  their  two 
pastors,  Boltzius  and  Gronau,  whom  they  loved  devotedly,  and 
to  whom  they  looked  up  as  fathers.  Their  orphan-house, 
founded  on  the  model  of  Professor  Francke's,  of  Halle,  was  a 
model  of  the  one  he  was  purposing  to  build ;  and  at  the 
close  of  his  visit  the  seventeen  orphan  children — '  the  little 
lambs',  he  called  them — came  and  shook  hands  with  him. 

On  Sunday,  August  27th,  he  preached  his  farewell  sermon 
to  his  people,  who,  sorrowing  to  lose  him,  were  comforted  by 
his  assurance  that  he  would  not  delay  his  return  to  them.  On 
the  following  day  the  chief  magistrate,  Mr.  Causton,  and  the 
recorder,  called  to  take  their  leave  of  him.  The  general 
demonstrations  of  affection  for  him  overwhelmed  him  ;  and  he 
took  the  first  opportunity  of  '  venting  his  heart  by  prayers  and 
tears.' 

The  voyage  was  to  prove  one  of  the  most  dangerous  that  he 
performed.  When  they  had  been  a  month  at  sea  they  were 
caught  by  a  gale  from  the  east,  which  put  all  the  sailors  to 
their  wits'  end.  Sails  were  slit  and  tackling  rent.  The  sea 
broke  over  the  vessel  with  such  violence  that  not  a  dry  spot 
was  left  anywhere,  and  Whitefield,  who  slept  in  the  most 
secure  part,  wrapped  in  a  buffalo's  hide,  was  drenched  twice 

6 


66  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

or  thrice  in  one  night.  His  composure  and  faith  in  God  made 
so  deep  an  impression  on  the  crew  that  they  would  say,  '  How 
should  we  have  been  blaming  and  cursing  one  another  had  not 
Mr.  Whitefield  been  amongst  us  ! ' 

The  storm  left  the  vessel  sadly   disabled,   besides   having 
destroyed  or  washed  away  a  large  portion  of  the  provisions. 
There  was  the  prospect  of  a  tedious  voyage  and  much  hard 
ship,  and  so  it  turned  out.     Contrary  winds  prevailed  for  a 
long  time  ;  at  the  end  of  October  the  passengers  were  allowed 
a  quart  of  water  a  day.     Their  constant  food  for  a  long  time 
was  salt  beef  and  water  dumplings,  which,   says   Whitefield, 
'  did  not  agree  with  the  stomachs  of  all  amongst  us.'     With  a 
humble,  constant  recognition  of  the  working  of  the  Almighty 
in  all  things  he  held  on  to  the  close  of  this  distressing  voyage. 
Three   days    before   they    sighted    land,    most   of    those    in 
the  cabin  had  begun  to  be  weak  and  to  look  hollow-eyed. 
He  exclaims :  '  May  we  patiently  tarry  God's  leisure  !     Amen  ! 
Amen!'     On  November  nth  they  were  reduced  to  an  ounce 
or  two  of  salt  beef,  a  pint  of  muddy  water,  and  a  cake  made  of 
flour  and  skimmings  of  the  pot,  as  the  allowance  for  each  man. 
Cold  weather  had  also  set  in,  and,  to  add  to  their  distress, 
they  did  not  know  where  they  were,  there  being  only  a  prevalent 
opinion  that  they  were  off  the  coast  of  Ireland.      That  day 
was  closed  with  the  appropriate  prayer,  '  May  we  now  learn 
that  man  liveth  not  by   bread   alone.'      And   the  next  day, 
Sunday,  November  12th,  opened  with  the  grateful  ascription, 
'  Blessed  be  the  Lord  God  of  Israel,  who  this  day  hath  visited 
a  distressed  people  ! '     They  had  entered  Carrickaholt  Bay,  in 
the  mouth  of  the  Shannon,  and  were  hospitably  received  and 
succoured  by  Mr.  MacMahon,  whose  house  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  bay. 

At  Limerick  and  at  Dublin  he  was  kindly  received  by  the 
heads  of  the  Episcopal  Church,  and  at  both  places  he  preached 


J/0  IV   TO  PREACH  67 

with  great  power  and  marked  effect.  His  passion  for  the  souls 
of  men  was  as  a  hunger  and  a  thirst  that  never  left  him.  At 
the  table  of  the  primate  an  expression  fell  from  the  lips  of 
Dr.  Delaney,  Dean  of  St.  Patrick's,  which  he  never  forgot, 
and  never  failed  to  act  upon :  '  I  wish,  whenever  I  go  up  into 
a  pulpit,  to  look  upon  it  as  the  last  time  I  shall  ever  preach,  or 
the  last  time  the  people  may  hear.' 

On  December  8th  he  reached  London,  accompanied  by 
some  friends,  who  had  gone  to  meet  him  on  his  way.  Wesley 
was  at  Oxford;  and,  as  soon  as  the  news  of  Whitefield's  arrival 
reached  him,  he  hastened  up  to  London,  and  '  God  gave  us,' 
he  says,  '  once  more  to  take  sweet  counsel  together.' 

At  the  close  of  such  a  year  of  travel  and  labour,  Whitefield 

had  some  reasons  for  winding  up  his  journal  with  this  emphatic 

verse — 

'  Give  me  Thy  strength,  O  God  of  power  ! 
Then  let  winds  blow,  or  thunders  roar, 
Thy  faithful  witness  will  I  be, 
'Tis  fixed  !     I  can  do  all  through  Thee  ! 


CHAPTER   V 
December,  1738 — April,   1739 

FETTER    LANE    MEETINGS — ORDAINED    PRIEST EXPELLED    THE 

CHURCHES — OPEN-AIR   PREACHING 

NOTHING  could  have  been  more  opportune  for  the 
welfare  of  Methodism  in  England  than  the  arrival  of 
John  Wesley  at  Deal  at  the  same  time  that  Whitefield  sailed 
for  Georgia.  The  newly  "kindled  fire  had  no  time  to  burn 
low.  Wesley  at  once  began  his  labours  with  energy,  decision, 
and  courage,  and  excited  great  opposition  on  the  part  of  the 
clergy.  Then  he  went  with  Ingham  to  Hernhuth,  to  have 
fellowship  with  the  Moravians,  whom  he  regarded  with  holy 
envy  as  possessors  of  spiritual  truth  which  he  understood  not. 
On  his  return  he  experienced  that  conversion  which  has  been 
already  spoken  of.  Charles  had  already  undergone  it.  Thus 
both  his  great  co-workers  preceded  him  into  the  kingdom  of 
God.  The  close  of  1738  saw  the  beginning  of  the  united 
work  of  all  the  three,  and  for  some  time  their  lives  were 
closely  blended  together.  They  preached  in  the  same  rooms, 
prayed  and  spoke  in  the  same  meetings,  and  presided  over 
the  same  private  societies,  which  were  formed  for  the  nurture 
of  the  Christian  life. 

The  day  after  Whitefield's  arrival  in  London  he  waited  on 

68 


FIRST   USES  EXTEMPORANEOUS  PRAYER      69 

the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  and  the  Bishop  of  London,  and 
was  favourably  received  ;  but  some  of  the  clergy  denied  him 
their  pulpits — five  in  two  days.  He  also  went  to  a  meeting  of 
the  Methodist  Society,  which  had  been  formed  in  Fetter  Lane, 
and  joined  them  in  their  love-feast.  There  were  at  this  time 
other  religious  societies  besides  those  which  were  springing 
out  of  the  labours  of  the  Methodists,  and  to  some  of  them, 
known  as  the  Religious  Societies  in  the  City  of  London,  he 
had  preached  before  he  left  for  Georgia,  getting  them  welcome 
collections  for  their  works  of  charity.  Formed  in  1675,  they 
had  a  wide  range  of  activity,  foiling  Popish  machinations, 
hunting  down  thieves,  closing  markets  on  Sundays,  suppressing 
houses  of  ill-fame,  proceeding  against  notorious  swearers, 
relieving  the  sick,  burying  the  poor,  sheltering  orphans,  estab- 
lishing schools  for  the  education  of  children  and  putting  the 
children  out  to  trades,  and  seeking  to  form,  through  the  pulpits 
of  the  city,  a  healthy  public  opinion  and  an  earnest  public 
spirit.  They  had  declined  much  from  their  original  warmth 
of  religious  zeal  and  energy  of  action,  yet  they  still  were  the 
friends  of  charity,  and  to  them  Whitefield  owed  some  of  his 
first  popularity  in  the  city. 

It  must  have  been  to  one  of  these  societies  that  he  was 
preaching  in  Redcross  Street,  on  Christmas  Day,  at  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  when  he  first  used  extemporaneous 
prayer.  A  laborious  day  must  that  Christmas  Day  have  been, 
with  its  first  sermon  at  four,  its  second  at  six — when  the 
preacher  felt  a  '  little  oppressed  with  drowsiness ' — its  sacra- 
mental, and  three  more  sermons ;  and  not  an  unworthy 
anniversary  of  a  man's  baptism.  Besides,  Whitefield  had 
preached  twice  on  Christmas  Eve,  and  expounded  to  two 
societies — one  of  them  the  society  at  Fetter  Lane — and  then 
continued  with  many  other  brethren  in  prayer,  singing,  and 
thanksgiving,  until  nearly    four  o'clock  in  the  morning.     No 


70  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

wonder  he  felt  a  '  little  oppressed  with  drowsiness  ! '  That 
society  at  Fetter  Lane  was  at  present  the  heart  of  the 
Methodist  movement,  its  central  fire.  The  engagements  of 
Christmas  Eve,  1738,  were  only  an  example  of  the  pro- 
longed, fervent,  and,  one  would  have  thought,  exhausting,  but 
Whitefield  says,  refreshing  and  invigorating,  devotions  which 
the  brethren  engaged  in  there. 

Sympathy  of  thought  and  feeling  drew  the  band  of  men 
close  together,  and  their  souls  glowed  with  a  passion  of 
religious  zeal  which  must,  sooner  or  later,  break  forth  upon 
the  land  for  good  or  evil,  or  both,  while  the  opposition  from 
without  only  fanned  the  flame.  It  was  a  hopeful  and  a 
dangerous  time.  First-fruits  of  the  coming  movement 
abounded  in  the  meeting — first  '  watchnight  meeting '  (?) — in 
which  the  leaders  and  a  company  of  sixty  brethren  celebrated 
the  departure  of  the  old  year  and  the  coming  of  the  new. 

'  About  three  in  the  morning,'  Wesley  says,  '  as  we  were  continuing 
instant  in  prayer,  the  power  of  God  came  mightily  upon  us,  insomuch  that 
many  cried  out  for  exceeding  joy,  and  many  fell  to  the  ground.  As  soon  as 
we  were  recovered  a  little  from  that  awe  and  amazement  at  the  presence  of 
His  majesty,  we  broke  out  with  one  voice,  "We  praise  Thee,  O  God; 
we  acknowledge  Thee  to  be  the  Lord  ! "  ' 

Five  nights  afterwards,  eight  '  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ, 
despised  Methodists,  whom  God  in  His  providence  brought 
together,'  met  at  Islington  to  confer  upon  several  things  of 
importance,  and  continued  in  fasting  and  prayer  until  three 
o'clock,  when  they  parted  with  '  the  conviction  that  God  was 
about  to  do  great  things.'  The  whole  of  the  second  night 
after  that  Whitefield  spent  at  Fetter  Lane  in  the  same  devout 
engagements,  and  the  next  day  was  got  through  with  one 
hour's  sleep.  '  There  was  a  great  deal  of  Divine  influence 
among  us,'  he  says. 

Amid  these  numerous  engagements,  the  object  of  his  return 


OPEN-AIR  PREACHING  SUGGESTED  71 

to  England,  to  receive  ordination  as  a  priest,  was  not  lost  sight 
of.  At  the  end  of  December  he  was  appointed  by  the  Trustees 
to  be  minister  of  Savannah.  With  the  fire  of  the  Fetter  Lane 
meetings  burning  in  his  soul,  he  returned  to  Oxford  ;  and  on 
January  14,  1739,  had  the  hands  of  good  Bishop  Benson  laid 
on  him.  The  bishop  sent  Lord  Huntingdon,  evidently  for 
the  benefit  of  Lady  Huntingdon,  an  account  of  the  ordination, 
and  added— 

'  I  hope  this  will  give  some  satisfaction  to  my  lady,  and  that  she  will  not 
have  occasion  to  find  fault  with  your  lordship's  old  tutor.  Though  mis- 
taken on  some  points,  I  think  him  (Mr.  Whitefield)  a  very  pious,  well- 
meaning  young  man,  with  good  abilities  and  great  zeal.  I  find  his  Grace 
of  Canterbuiy  thinks  highly  of  him.  I  pray  God  grant  him  great  success 
in  all  his  undertakings  for  the  good  of  mankind,  and  a  revival  of  true 
religion  and  holiness  among  us  in  these  degenerate  days  ;  in  which  prayer 
I  am  sure  your  lordship  and  my  kind,  good  Lady  Huntingdon  will  most 
heartily  join.' 

A  noticeable  incident  was  his  visit  to  Dr.  Watts,  now  an 
old  man,  who  received  him  'most  cordially.'  But  the  most 
important  fact  of  the  month  was  the  thought  of  preaching  in 
the  open  air,  which  was  suggested  to  him  by  a  crowd  of  a 
thousand  people  having  been  unable  to  gain  admission  to 
Bermondsey  Church,  where  he  preached  one  Sunday  after- 
noon. It  met  with  no  encouragement  when  he  mentioned  it 
to  some  of  his  friends  ;  they  thought  it  was  a  '  mad  notion.' 
However,  it  would  have  been  carried  out  the  next  Sunday  at 
Ironmongers'  Almshouses  had  not  the  preacher  been  disap- 
pointed in  his  congregation,  which  was  small  enough  to  hear 
him  from  the  pulpit.  He  took  two  sermons  with  him — one  for 
within  and  the  other  for  without.  What  were  his  impressions 
about  this  untoward  circumstance  he  nowhere  says ;  most 
probably  he  had  humble  and  self-reproachful  thoughts  for 
having  run  before  there  seemed  to  be  need. 

Such  intense  and  lons;-continued  work  as  he  rushed  into 


72  GEORGE   J I V// TEE/ELD 

upon  his  return  home  could  not  fail  to  tell  upon  him,  and  his 
entry  in  his  journal  on  February  6th  is  such  as  one  expects 
to  see — 

'  Went  to  St.  Helen's,  where  all  on  a  sudden  I  was  taken  so  ill  in  body, 
and  was  so  deserted  in  soul,  that  I  would  have  given  anything  for  my 
written  notes  ;  yet  God  gave  me  to  trust  in  Him  for  strength  and  assistance, 
and  before  I  had  done  I  was  warm  in  heart  and  strong  enough  in  body  to 
continue  to  offer  Jesus  Christ  freely  for  a  considerable  time  to  all  that 
would  lay  hold  on  Him  by  faith.' 

At  this  time  we  hear  the  sound  of  those  peculiar  Aniens, 
which  have  distinguished  the  children  of  Methodism  down 
to  this  late  day.  '  Many  seemed  to  feel  what  was  spoken, 
and  said  hearty  and  loud  Aniens  to  my  sentences.'  The 
next  day  another  keen  attack  struck  him  at  Windsor.  We 
shall  see  this  weakness  showing  itself  all  through  his  life  to 
the  last ;  and  if  we  keep  in  memory  its  existence,  and  not 
allow  ourselves  to  think,  as  we  follow  him  day  and  night 
through  his  ceaseless  toils,  that  we  are  with  a  man  who  has 
no  infirmities — who,  as  it  has  been  expressed  by  Sir  J. 
Stephen  in  his  'Essays  in  Ecclesiastical  Biography,'  'was 
gifted  with  an  incapacity  of  fatiguing  or  being  fatigued ' — we 
shall  form  a  juster  estimate  of  the  heavenly  fervour  which 
triumphed  over  his  own  frailness,  and  then  over  every  outside 
difficulty.  He  was  often  fatigued  beyond  endurance ;  but  the 
sight  of  his  congregation,  the  delight  he  had  in  his  work, 
and  the  strength  which  comes  from  above,  quickened  him 
to  speak  with  freedom  and  power.  'Freedom  and  power,' 
these  were  the  two  qualities  in  his  preaching  which  he  prized 
before  all  others. 

A  short  tour  in  the  provinces  gave  him  his  first  taste  of 
direct  hostility,  the  mob  and  the  Church  being  of  one  mind  in 
openly  opposing  him.  It  also  gave  him  his  first  taste  of  the 
sweets  of  field-preaching.     There   was    truth    in    half  of  the 


KINGS  WOOD   COLLIERS  73 

exclamation  which  a  not  devout  observer  uttered  when  White- 
field  started  from  London  :  '  I  believe  the  devil  in  hell  is  in 
you  all ' — that  was  the  untrue  half ; — '  Whitefield  has  set  the 
town  on  fire,  and  now  he  is  gone  to  kindle  a  flame  in  the 
country' — that  was  the  true  half..  There  was  alarm  among  the 
powers  of  the  Church  in  the  cities  of  Bath  and  Bristol  before 
his  arrival  there;  and  his  application  to  preach  in  the  Abbey 
Church  at  Bath  on  behalf  of  the  orphan-house  was  met  with 
a  positive  refusal,  although  the  bishop  had  given  the  Trustees 
of  Georgia  a  promise,  before  Whitefield  sailed  for  Georgia, 
that  such  a  service  might  be  held.  The  refusal  came  not, 
however,  from  the  bishop.  Similar  treatment  at  Bristol,  to 
which  he  at  once  withdrew,  led  to  most  important  results. 

Long  ago,  Kingswood  was  a  royal  chase  near  Bristol ;  in 
Whitefield's  time  it  had  become  a  colliery  district,  inhabited 
by  men  of  a  rough,  ungodly  type,  who  had  no  church  nearer 
than  one,  three,  or  four  miles  away.  They  were  regarded  as  so 
many  Indians,  and  when  Whitefield  first  went  to  Georgia  it 
was  said  to  him  :  '  If  you  have  a  mind  to  convert  Indians, 
there  are  colliers  enough  in  Kingswood.'  And  they  were  still 
in  their  sins  and  misery  when  he  returned.  Even  he  might 
have  failed  to  undertake  their  evangelisation  had  he  not  been 
almost  compelled.  When  clergymen  were  cold,  and  the  chan- 
cellor of  the  diocese  captious,  and  churches  scarce,  he  had 
time  and  inducements  to  carry  out  those  loving  wishes  towards 
the  colliers,  which  had  stirred  his  heart  for  a  long  time ;  nor 
was  the  desire  to  attempt  open-air  preaching  without  its  weight 
on  the  same  side. 

Understanding  that  the  minister  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe  was 
willing  to  lend  his  church  for  sermons  to  be  preached  on 
behalf  of  the  orphan-house,  Whitefield  applied  first  of  all  to 
him,  and  the  answer  was  a  civil  refusal ;  the  church  could  not 
be  lent  without  a  special  order  from  the  chancellor.     To  the 


GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

chancellor  Whitefield  went.  The  reply  from  him  was,  'that 
he  would  not  give  any  positive  leave,  neither  would  he  pro- 
hibit any  one  that  should  lend  Whitefield  a  church ;  but  he 
would  advise  him  to  withdraw  to  some  other  place  till  he  had 
heard  from  the  bishop,  and  not  preach  on  that  or  any 
other  occasion  soon.'  Whitefield  asked  him  his  reasons.  He 
answered,  '  Why  will  you  press  so  hard  upon  me  ?  The  thing 
has  given  a  general  dislike.'  Whitefield  replied :  '  Not  the 
design  of  the  orphan-house.  Even  those  that  disagree  with 
me  in  other  particulars  approve  of  that.  And  as  for  the 
gospel,  when  was  it  preached  without  dislike  ? '  The  dean, 
when  called  upon  soon  after  the  interview  with  the  chancellor, 
gave  the  same  ambiguous  replies,  with  the  same  plain  meaning : 
'  Mr.  Whitefield,  we  would  rather  not  say  yea  or  nay  to  you  ; 
but  we  mean  nay,  and  greatly  wish  that  you  would  understand 
us  so.' 

The  societies  were  still  open,  so  was  Newgate,  and  then 
there  were  the  colliers.  These  last  were  visited  on  a  Saturday 
afternoon  (February  17,  1739)  for  the  first  time,  the  very  day 
after  his  interviews  with  the  chancellor  and  the  dean.  White- 
field  took  his  stand  on  Hannan  Mount,  and  spoke  upon  Matt. 
v.  1,  2,  and  3,  to  as  many  as  came  to  hear  ;  upwards  of  two 
hundred  attended.  He  does  not  say  what  were  his  feelings  in 
his  novel  situation,  nor  what  were  the  impressions  upon  his 
audience.  His  only  remark  in  his  journal  is,  '  Blessed  be  God 
that  the  ice  is  now  broke,  and  I  have  now  taken  the  field  ! 
Some  may  censure  me,  but  is  there  not  a  cause  ?  Pulpits  are 
denied,  and  the  poor  colliers  ready  to  perish  for  lack  of  know- 
ledge.' Now  he  was  the  owner  of  a  pulpit  that  no  man  could 
take  from  him,  and  his  heart  rejoiced  in  this  great  gift.  He 
had  broken  through  all  conventionality,  and  gone  straight  to 
the  lost  sheep.  But  all  in  Bristol  was  not  so  dark  on  Sunday 
morning  as  it  had  been  on  Friday  night  and  Saturday.     Three 


THREATENED    WITH  EXCOMMUNICATION     75 

pulpits  were  placed  at  his  disposal,  and  from  two  of  them  he 
preached,  one  being  that  of  St.  Mary  Redcliffe,  where  he  had 
such  a  congregation  as  his  eyes  had  never  yet  seen,  and  he 
preached  with  '  liberty.'  But  the  most  enjoyable  part  of  the 
day  was  its  close,  which  was  spent  with  two  of  the  societies. 
Monday  opened  the  parish  church  of  St.  Philip  and  Jacob, 
and  gave  him  a  noble  congregation,  and  a  collection  of 
eighteen  pounds  for  his  orphan-house. 

Perhaps  these  quick,  decisive  movements  put  the  chancellor 
on  his  mettle ;  for  on  the  Monday  a  summons  came  from 
the  apparitor,  commanding  Whitefield's  appearance  before  the 
chancellor.  With  this  document  in  his  pocket,  Whitefield 
spent  a  joyful  night  among  his  friends  in  Baldwin  Street,  and 
on  Tuesday  morning,  at  ten  o'clock,  he  waited  upon  the 
chancellor,  who  plainly  told  him  that  he  intended  to  stop  his 
proceedings.  '  I  have  sent  for  the  register  here,  sir,'  said  he, 
'  to  take  down  your  answer.'  The  first  question  was,  by  what 
authority  Whitefield  preached  in  the  diocese  of  Bristol  without 
a  licence.  Whitefield  replied  that  he  thought  that  custom  was 
grown  obsolete.  And  then  becoming  questioner  in  turn,  he 
asked  the  chancellor :  '  And  why,  pray  sir,  did  not  you  ask  the 
clergyman  this  question  who  preached  for  you  last  Thursday  ?  ' 
He  said  that  was  nothing  to  Whitefield.  He  then  read  over 
part  of  the  ordination  office,  and  those  canons  that  forbid  any 
minister's  preaching  in  a  private  house,  &c.  ;  and  asked  what 
Whitefield  had  to  say  to  them.  He  answered,  that  he  appre- 
hended that  those  canons  did  not  belong  to  professed  ministers 
of  the  Church  of  England.  The  chancellor  replied  that  they 
did.  Again  Whitefield  resorted  to  the  ad  hominem  method  : 
'There  is  also  a  canon,  said  I,  sir,  forbidding  all  clergymen 
to  frequent  taverns  and  play  at  cards  ;  why  is  not  that  put  in 
execution  ?  '  Said  the  chancellor  :  '  Why  does  not  some  one 
complain  of  them,  and  then  it  would  ? '     The  chancellor  next 


76  GEORGE   WHTTEFIELD 

accused  Whitefield  of  false  doctrine,  whereupon  he  received  a 
proper  answer  :  '  I  cannot  hut  speak  the  things  I  know  ;  and  I 
am  resolved  to  proceed  as  usual.'  'Observe  his  answer,  then, 
Mr.  Register,'  said  he.  Then,  turning  to  Whitefield,  he  added  : 
'  I  am  resolved,  sir,  if  you  preach  or  expound  anywhere  in  this 
diocese,  till  you  have  a  licence,  I  will  first  suspend,  and  then 
excommunicate  you.  And  what  I  do  is  in  the  name  of  the 
clergy  and  laity  of  the  city  of  Bristol.'  How  much  truth  there 
was  in  the  whole  statement  appeared  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
day  that  it  was  made.  The  laity  of  Bristol,  who  were  said  to 
want  the  silencing  of  Whitefield,  congregated  in  thousands 
round  St.  Nicholas'  Church,  hoping  to  hear  him  preach ;  but 
the  lecturer  sent  word  that  orders  were  given  by  the  clergy- 
man that  he  should  not  preach  in  his  church.  The  societies 
remained  open,  and  the  laity  crowded  their  meetings  that 
night. 

The  second  interview  with  the  chancellor  was  followed  by 
the  same  action  as  the  first,  and  with  more  encouraging  results. 
On  the  following  day  the  journal  relates  :  '  All  the  church 
doors  being  now  shut,  and,  if  open,  not  able  to  contain  half 
that  came  to  hear,  at  three  in  the  afternoon  I  went  to  Kings- 
wood  among  the  colliers.  God  highly  favoured  us  in  sending 
us  a  fine  day,  and  near  two  thousand  people  were  assembled 
on  that  occasion.  I  preached  and  enlarged  on  John  iii.  3  for 
near  an  hour,  and,  I  hope,  to  the  comfort  and  edification  of 
those  that  heard  me.'  Two  days  afterwards  he  stood  upon 
the  same  spot,  and  preached  to  a  congregation  of  four  or  five 
thousand  with  great  freedom.  The  bright  sun  overhead,  and 
the  immense  throng  standing  around  him  in  awful  silence, 
formed  a  picture  which  filled  him  with  '  holy  admiration.' 

It  is  important  to  know  what  were  his  feelings  when  he  met 
these  immense  field  congregations,  whose  numbers  had  grown 
from  two  hundred  to  twenty  thousand,  and   what  were  the 


THE  POWER   OF   TEARS  yy 

effects  of  his  preaching  upon  his  audience.     His  own  words 
are : — 


'  Having  no  righteousness  of  their  own  to  renounce,  they  were  glad  to 
hear  of  a  Jesus  who  was  a  friend  to  publicans,  and  came  not  to  call  the 
righteous,  but  sinners,  to  repentance.  The  first  discovery  of  their  being 
affected  was,  to  see  the  white  gutters  made  by  their  tears,  which  plentifully 
fell  down  their  black  cheeks,  as  they  came  out  of  their  coal-pits.  Hundreds 
and  hundreds  of  them  were  soon  brought  under  deep  convictions,  which  (as 
the  event  proved)  happily  ended  in  a  sound  and  thorough  conversion.  The 
change  was  visible  to  all,  though  numbers  chose  to  impute  it  to  anything 
rather  than  the  finger  of  God.  As  the  scene  was  quite  new,  and  I  had 
iust  begun  to  be  an  extempore  preacher,  it  often  occasioned  many  inward 
conflicts.  Sometimes  when  twenty  thousand  people  were  before  me,  I  had 
not,  in  my  own  apprehension,  a  word  to  say,  either  to  God  or  them.  But 
I  was  never  totally  deserted,  and  was  frequently  (for  to  deny  it  would  be 
lying  against  God)  so  assisted,  that  I  knew  by  happy  experience,  what  our 
Lord  meant  by  saying,  "  Out  of  his  belly  shall  flow  rivers  of  living  water." 
The  open  firmament  above  me,  the  prospect  of  the  adjacent  fields,  with  the 
sight  of  thousands  and  thousands,  some  in  coaches,  some  on  horseback,  and 
some  in  the  trees,  and  at  times  all  affected  and  drenched  in  tears  together, 
to  which  sometimes  was  added  the  solemnity  of  the  approaching  evening, 
was  almost  too  much  for,  and  quite  overcame,  me.' 


The  overpowering  emotion  of  which  he  speaks,  and  the 
tears  which  made  white  gutters  on  the  begrimed  faces  of  the 
colliers,  were  the  answer  to  his  own  passionate  feelings. 
Seldom  did  he  preach  without  drenching  his  audience  in  tears, 
and  the  effect  was  due  quite  as  much  to  his  unrestrained 
manifestation  of  strong  feeling  as  to  his  words.  Especially 
must  this  characteristic  have  struck  the  hearts  of  rough  men, 
who,  after  having  been  long  uncared  for,  at  last  saw  a  clergy- 
man willing  to  endure  fatigue  and  shame  for  the  sake  of 
preaching  to  them.  He  spoke  as  having  nothing  to  keep 
back  from  them,  as  having  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of,  least  of 
all  of  those  tender  yearnings  of  divine  compassion  which  had 
constrained  him  to  come  to  them,   and  instead  of  assuming 


78  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

a  placid  composure  which  he  did  not  feel,  he  let  his  whole 
manner  express  what  was  in  him. 

'  I  hardly  ever  knew  him  go  through  a  sermon  without  weeping  more  or 
less,'  said  his  friend,  Cornelius  Winter,  '  and  I  truly  believe  his  were  the 
tears  of  sincerity.  His  voice  was  often  interrupted  by  his  affection  ;  and  I 
have  heard  him  say  in  the  pulpit :  "  You  blame  me  for  weeping,  but  how 
can  I  help  it,  when  you  will  not  weep  for  yourselves,  though  your  immortal 
souls  are  upon  the  verge  of  destruction,  and,  for  aught  you  know,  you  are 
hearing  your  last  sermon,  and  may  never  more  have  an  opportunity  to  have 
Christ  offered  to  you?"  His  freedom  in  the  use  of  his  passions  often  put  my 
pride  to  the  trial.  I  could  hardly  bear  such  unreserved  use  of  tears,  and 
the  scope  he  gave  to  his  feelings,  for  sometimes  he  exceedingly  wept, 
stamped  loudly  and  passionately,  and  was  frequently  so  overcome  that  for 
a  few  seconds  you  would  suspect  he  never  could  recover ;  and  when  he  did, 
nature  required  some  little  time  to  compose  herself. ' 

Much   of  his   power   lay  in   this   abandon,    but   it   was    the 
abandon  of  quenchless  love. 

The  visit  to  Bristol  was  interrupted  for  a  few  days  to  make 
an  excursion  into  Wales ;  but  although  this  was  the  first 
appearance  of  a  famous,  avowed  Methodist  among  the  Welsh, 
Methodism  was  already  amongst  them,  both  in  mode  and 
spirit.  Clergymen  had  gone  beyond  parish  boundaries,  preach- 
ing to  large  congregations  in  churches,  in  churchyards,  and  in 
fields ;  religious  societies,  founded  upon  the  rules  which  Dr. 
Woodward  had  laid  down  for  the  societies  in  London,  were 
scattered  here  and  there  to  the  number  of  thirty;  the  great 
doctrines  and  holy  commandments  of  the  gospel  were  taught 
with  power  which  fell  little,  if  at  all,  below  that  which  marked 
the  ministrations  of  Whitefield.  The  two  prime  movers  in  the 
work  were  Griffith  Jones  and  Howel  Harris.  Griffith  Jones, 
rector  of  Llanddowror,  Carmarthenshire,  was  a  man  of  ardent 
piety  and  noble  courage,  and  the  greatest  preacher  in  the 
Principality  in  his  day.  He  preceded  the  Methodists  in  the 
work  of  preaching  at  wakes,  fairs,  and  other  riotous  gather- 


HOWEL   HARRIS  79 

ings  of  the  people.  In  some  cases  he  would  be  invited  by 
parishioners,  without  the  consent  of  their  clergyman,  to  come 
and  preach  to  them  ;  in  which  case  the  clergyman  would  pro- 
bably make  sure  of  the  church  key,  and  compel  both  his 
people  and  their  favourite  preacher  to  take  their  stand  in  the 
open  air  \  next  he  would  lodge  an  accusation  in  the  Eccle- 
siastical Court.  Griffith  Jones  had  twenty  years  of  litigation. 
By  the  establishment  of  '  Welsh  Circulating  Schools '  he  did 
his  greatest  work.  His  plan  was  to  send  a  schoolmaster  into 
a  locality  that  wished  for  instruction,  to  teach  reading  the 
Bible  in  the  Welsh  tongue,  psalmody,  and  the  catechism. 
From  one  district  the  schoolmaster  would  pass  to  another,  to 
do  the  same  work.  Jones  testifies  that  in  Wales  not  one 
Dissenter  in  ten  separated  from  the  Church  of  England  for 
any  other  reason  than  '  for  want  of  plain,  practical,  pressing, 
and  zealous  preaching,  in  a  language  and  dialect  they  are  able 
to  understand.'  For  the  same  reason  Methodism  obtained  a 
strong  footing. 

Howel  Harris,  born  the  same  year  as  Whitefield,  was  not 
unlike  the  great  evangelist  in  disposition,  in  gifts,  in  expe- 
rience, and  in  whole-hearted  consecration  to  the  Saviour. 
Ignorant  of  all  the  disputed  points  of  religion,  he  lived  in  the 
simple  faith  that  God  loved  him,  and  would,  for  His  own 
name's  sake,  love  him  freely  to  the  end.  Oxford  having 
proved  a  disappointment  to  him,  he  returned  to  Wales,  and 
began  in  his  own  home-parish,  Talgarth,  Brecon,  to  visit  from 
house  to  house,  and  then  to  preach  in  the  houses.  The  effects 
were  marvellous,  and,  as  a  consequence,  he  had  to  encounter 
the  opposition  of  the  clergy,  the  magistrates,  and  the  mob. 
Yet  the  work  grew ;  there  was  a  general  reformation  in  several 
counties,  and  places  of  worship  were  everywhere  crowded. 
When  the  news  of  Whitefield's  labours  in  London  reached 
him  he   felt   his  heart  united    to    the  evangelist  '  in  such  a 


So  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

manner  as  he  had  never  felt  the  like  with  any  one  before. ' 
To  his  great  joy  a  letter  came  to  him  from  Whitefield  soon 
after  his  return  from  Georgia. 

'  London,  December,  173S. 
'  My  dear  Brother, — Though  I  am  unknown  to  you  in  person,  yet  I 
have  long  been  united  to  you  in  spirit ;  and  have  been  rejoiced  to  hear  how 
the  good  pleasure  of  the  Lord  prospered  in  your  hands.  Go  on,  go  on  ! 
He  that  sent  you  will  assist,  comfort,  and  protect  you,  and  make  you  more 
than  conqueror  through  His  great  love.  I  am  a  living  monument  of  this 
truth.  I  love  you,  and  wish  you  may  be  the  spiritual  father  of  thousands, 
and  shine  as  the  sun  in  the  kingdom  of  your  heavenly  Father.  Oh,  how 
shall  I  joy  to  meet  you  at  the  judgment-seat  !  How  you  would  honour  me 
if  you  would  send  a  line  to  your  affectionate  though  unworthy  brother, 

'  George  Whitefield.' 

To  this  letter  Harris  replied  the  day  after  its  reception, 
assuring  Whitefield  of  his  profound  love  for  him,  telling  him 
some  good  news  of  the  work  of  God  in  Wales,  and  saying: 
'  Were  you  to  come  to  Wales  it  would  not  be  labour  in  vain.' 
This  devoted  young  Welshman  had  several  times  offered  him- 
self for  holy  orders,  and  been  refused  because  he  preached  as 
a  layman,  and  so  he  was  shut  up  to  this  way,  or  to  silence. 

We  can  see  from  these  brief  sketches  what  was  the  state  of 
things  in  the  Church  of  England  in  Wales,  and,  to  some 
extent,  in  Nonconformity.  The  preaching  of  the  godly  clergy 
was  frowned  upon  by  their  own  brethren,  and  welcomed  and 
supported  by  Nonconformists.  The  Spirit  of  the  Lord  was 
moving  in  this  land,  as  well  as  in  America  and  in  Scotland 
and  England.  We  can  also  understand  why  Whitefield  broke 
away  for  a  few  days  from  the  thousands  of  Bristol  and  Kings- 
wood.  His  soul  and  the  soul  of  Harris  leaped  to  each  other 
like  flames  of  fire. 

An  incident  of  the  short  passage  to  Wales  is  much  too 
characteristic  of  the  times  to  be  omitted.  Contrary  winds 
delayed  Whitefield  at  the  New  Passage,  and   he   says  :    '  At 


A    GAMBLING   CLERGYMAN  81 

the  inn  there  was  an  unhappy  clergyman,  who  would  not  go 
over  in  the  passage-boat  because  I  was  in  it.  Alas  !  thought 
I,  this  very  temper  would  make  heaven  itself  unpleasant  to 
that  man,  if  he  saw  me  there.  I  was  told  that  he  charged  me 
with  being  a  Dissenter.  I  saw  him  soon  after,  shaking  his 
elbows  over  a  gaming  table.'  The  clergyman  had  changed  his 
mind  and  taken  the  boat.  The  image  of  him  recalls  Parson 
Shuffle  in  '  Roderick  Random,'  and  shows,  alas  !  that,  at  that 
time,  some  parsons  in  the  north  and  some  in  the  west  were 
painfully  alike  in  character  and  in  uselessness. 

The  Welsh  visit  was  very  short,  and  was  marked  with  those 
experiences  which  Whitefield  was  to  know  as  common  things 
for  the  rest  of  his  life.  First  of  all,  the  church  at  Cardiff  was 
denied,  and  he  had  to  resort  to  the  town  hall,  where  he 
preached  from  the  judge's  seat  to  a  small  audience  of  four 
hundred  people.  No  outrage  was  attempted  in  the  building, 
but  some  of  the  baser  sort  amused  themselves  by  trailing  a 
dead  fox  around  it  outside — a  very  trifling  annoyance  to  a 
preacher  with  such  lung  power,  and  who  could  make  himself 
heard  in  spite  of  the  shouting  and  noise.  Then  there  were 
melting  meetings  of  a  more  private  sort  with  the  religious 
societies ;  and  on  the  whole  he  had  reason,  as  he  says,  to 
think  that  there  was  'a  most  comfortable  prospect  of  the 
spreading  of  the  gospel  in  Wales.' 

On  his  return  to  Bristol  he  had  to  suffer  meaner  opposition 
than  any  he  had  met  with  before.  Newgate,  where  he  had 
delighted  to  preach  to  the  prisoners,  and  where,  by  his  gifts, 
he  had  relieved  much  distress,  was  closed  against  him.  Un- 
willing to  lose  their  friend  and  teacher,  many  of  the  prisoners 
sent  a  petition  to  the  mayor,  praying  that  he  might  be  allowed 
to  come  among  them  as  usual ;  but  the  mayor  would  not  grant 
them  their  request.  Mr.  Dagge,  the  keeper,  a  convert  and 
friend  of  Whitefield,  remonstrated,  and  urged  that  Whitefield 

7 


82  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

preached  agreeably  to  Scripture  ;  but  the  only  answer  was  to 
appoint  another  clergyman  to  the  post  of  chaplain — for  shame 
forbade  his  denying  the  poor  unfortunates  all  religious  aid. 
This  disappointment  was  cause  for  great  rejoicing  to  the 
expelled  Methodist,  who  wrote  in  his  journal :  '  Some  preach 
Christ  out  of  contention,  and  others  of  goodwill :  however, 
Christ  is  preached.' 

His  persecution  had  ample  compensation  in  the  new  power 
of  which  he  had  become  conscious,  and  in  the  new  opening 
for  labour  which  he  had  found  since  his  arrival  in  the  west,  the 
fields  giving  him  room  enough  for  any  congregation,  and  the 
people  delighting  to  meet  him  there  in  all  weathers,  even  the 
cold  and  snow  of  March  not  being  able  to  keep  them  away. 
At  Bath,  at  Bristol,  and  in  the  neighbouring  villages,  he  was 
daily  engaged  in  preaching  to  thousands — in  the  churches  if  he 
could  gain  admission  to  them,  and  if  not,  then  under  the  May- 
pole or  in  the  fields,  or  in  any  open  space  where  the  people 
had  a  right  to  assemble.  Then  it  was  that  he  felt  the  wonder- 
ful influence  which  pervades  mighty  audiences,  possessed  with 
one  concern,  bending  their  attention  to  one  subject,  and 
engaged  in  one  common  service.  His  favourite  congregation 
was  the  Kingswood  one,  which  met  on  the  Sunday.  The 
crowds  standing  in  awful  silence,  and  the  echo  of  their  singing 
running  from  side  to  side,  was,  he  says,  very  solemn  and  strik- 
ing. Weariness  and  sickness  often  oppressed  him,  yet  he 
always  found  strength  when  the  task  faced  him.  He  was 
already  beginning  to  learn  the  curative  properties  of  effort, 
and  to  trust  for  invigoration  to  what  exhausted  him.  Then, 
too,  there  was  popular  sympathy  on  his  side.  He  had  but  to 
take  his  stand  anywhere,  and  an  audience  was  before  him. 
When  Newgate  was  closed,  and  his  sister's  room,  where  he  had 
been  accustomed  to  address  a  congregation  as  early  as  six 
o'clock  on  Sunday  morning,  could  not  accommodate  a  fourth 


EARLY  MORNING  PREACHING  83 

of  the  people  who  came,  some  gentlemen  gave  him  the  use  of 
a  bowling-green,  and  his  first  congregation  in  that  novel  church 
was  five  thousand.  This  was  his  first  attempt  at  preaching  in 
the  open  air  early  in  the  morning.  Its  success,  and  the  kind- 
ness of  friends  who  had  come  to  his  rescue,  cheered  and  en- 
couraged him ;  his  heart  was  full  to  breaking  of  grateful  emotions. 

Pressed  by  repeated  invitations,  he  next  presented  himself 
in  a  very  different  part  of  the  city,  where  many  dwelt  who 
neither  feared  God  nor  regarded  man,  and  preached  to 
thousands  in  a  yard  of  the  glass-houses,  declaring  both  the 
threatenings  and  the  promises  of  the  Almighty,  so  that  none 
might  either  presume  or  despair. 

His  courage  and  tact  were  sometimes  severely  tried,  but 
more  at  Bath  than  Bristol,  by  the  scoffing  which  he  heard  as 
he  passed  through  the  crowd,  and  by  the  laughter  which 
greeted  him  when  he  mounted  a  table  for  his  pulpit.  The 
merriment  never  lasted  long  ;  for  that  true  love  and  unusual 
zeal  which  carried  him  to  such  congregations  bore  him  strongly 
and  patiently  on  with  his  work,  and  it  was  not  in  human  nature 
to  continue  trifling  with  one  so  superior  to  the  passions  of  his 
audience.  Whoever  came  to  annoy  must  either  submit  to  the 
spell  which  soon  caught  the  most  of  the  audience,  and  stay, 
either  a  willing  or  an  unwilling  hearer,  or  go  away  disappointed 
of  his  sport.  To  the  last  we  shall  find  that  Whitefield  was 
never  beaten,  hazardous  and  questionable  as  some  of  his  efforts 
afterwards  were.  His  convictions  on  the  power  of  preaching, 
penned  after  he  had  hushed  and  awed  a  jeering  crowd  at 
Bath,  give  in  part  the  secret  of  his  confidence  :  '  Men  may  say 
what  they  please,  but  there  is  something  in  this  foolishness  of 
preaching,  which,  when  attended  with  a  Divine  energy,  will 
make  the  most  stubborn  heart  bend  or  break.  "  Is  not  My 
word  like  fire,  saith  the  Lord,  and  like  a  hammer  that  breaketh 
the  rock  in  pieces  ?  '  " 


84  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

The  time  when  he  must  leave  the  city  was  near ;  and  that 
his  work  might  not  fall  to  the  ground,  or  come  to  a  stand  after 
his  departure,  he  again  and  again  requested  Wesley  to  come 
from  London  and  carry  it  on  ;  but  Wesley  could  not  be  sure 
that  he  ought  to  go.  His  inclination  was  not  towards  Bristol, 
and  on  resorting  to  his  practice  of  bibliomancy,  many  passages 
of  Scripture  had  a  sinister  meaning.  This  was  one  :  '  Get  thee 
up  into  this  mountain,  and  die  in  the  mount  whither  thou 
goest  up,  and  be  gathered  unto  thy  people.'  His  journey  was 
next  proposed  to  the  society  in  Fetter  Lane.  Charles  could 
not  bear  the  mention  of  it ;  but  an  appeal  to  a  Bible,  opened 
at  haphazard,  brought  him  under  the  power  of  these  strong 
words :  '  Son  of  man,  behold  I  take  from  thee  the  desire  of 
thine  eyes  with  a  stroke ;  yet  thou  shalt  not  mourn  or  weep, 
neither  shall  thy  tears  run  down  ; '  and  thinking  that  they  were 
a  voice  from  heaven,  he  held  his  peace.  Still,  the  brethren 
were  not  satisfied,  and,  to  settle  the  difficulty,  an  appeal  was 
made  to  the  lot.  This  said  he  must  go.  Many  wanted  a 
Divine  confirmation  of  this  supposed  Divine  announcement, 
and  the  rest  consenting  to  the  suggestion,  a  Bible  was  opened 
thrice,  and  some  strange  passages  were  hit  upon ;  one  was 
this  :  '  And  Ahaz  slept  with  his  fathers,  and  they  buried  him  in 
the  city,  even  in  Jerusalem.' 

The  journal  of  Whitefield  contains  the  following  entry  for 
Saturday,  March  31st:  'I  was  much  refreshed  with  the  sight 
of  my  honoured  friend,  Mr.  John  Wesley,  whom  I  desired  to 
come  hither,  and  whom  I  had  now  the  pleasure  of  introducing 
to  my  friends,  he  having  never  before  been  at  Bristol.  Help 
him,  Lord  Jesus,  to  water  what  Thy  own  right  hand  hath 
planted,  for  Thy  mercy's  sake.'  Wesley  writes  in  his  journal : 
'Saturday,  31st.  In  the  evening  I  reached  Bristol,  and  met 
Mr.  Whitefield  there.  I  could  scarce  reconcile  myself  at  first 
to  this  strange  way  of  preaching  in  the  fields,  of  which  he  set 


WESLEY  LEARNING   OF    U'HITEFIELD  85 

me  an  example  on  the  Sunday ;  having  been  all  my  life  (till 
very  lately)  so  tenacious  of  every  point  relating  to  decency  and 
order,  that  I  should  have  thought  the  saving  of  souls  almost  a 
sin,  if  it  had  not  been  done  in  a  church.'  The  freer  and  more 
impetuous  nature  of  Whitefield  stands  out  in  all  distinctness 
from  the  statesmanlike  nature  of  the  founder  of  Wesleyan 
Methodism,  as  the  two  friends  begin  the  work  of  Sunday. 
Whitefield  had  seen,  more  by  the  instinct  of  his  quick  emotions 
than  by  the  reasoning  of  his  mind,  the  value  of  his  irregular 
work,  and  already  had  its  fruits  approved  it  to  him  as  accept- 
able to  God ;  and  that  day  he  went  out  confident  and  joyful, 
while  Wesley  was  bewildered  and  half  inclined  to  turn  away. 
True  to  his  cautious,  practical  mind,  Wesley  adopted  field- 
preaching  only  when  he  had  seen  its  worth,  just  as  he  took  up 
the  class-meeting  idea  from  others,  and  only  consented  to  lay 
preaching  because  it  had  been  started  by  men  more  headlong 
than  himself,  and  these  supported  by  the  wisdom  and  piety  of 
his  mother,  who  warned  him  not  to  hinder  a  work  of  God. 
Others  moved,  he  quickly  followed ;  and,  if  it  was  found  prac- 
ticable, passed  on  and  took  the  lead. 

Whitefield  took  him  the  round  of  his  work  on  April  1st,  and 
any  heart  less  bold  and  less  devoted  than  Wesley's  must  have 
quailed  when  he  saw  what  was  expected  of  him.  They  began 
at  the  bowling-green  with  the  usual  Sunday  morning  service, 
which  was  attended  by  a  larger  audience  than  ever.  They 
went  to  Hannam  Mount,  where  the  colliers  and  others  came 
in  unusually  great  numbers.  They  passed  on  to  Rose  Green, 
and  here  the  congregation  was  more  enlarged  than  either  of 
the  other  two.  Twenty-four  coaches  and  many  horsemen 
mingled  with  the  crowd,  and  though  the  wind  was  not  so 
favourable  as  usual,  '  I  was  strengthened,'  Whitefield  says,  '  to 
cry  aloud,  and  take  my  last  farewell.'  Prayers,  blessings,  and 
good   wishes  were   showered  on  him  as  they  returned  to  the 


86  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

city.  At  seven,  Whitefield  went  to  take  his  leave  of  one  of  the 
societies,  and  found  the  room  and  the  way  to  it  so  crowded 
that  he  had  to  mount  a  ladder,  and  come  at  the  door  by  climb- 
ing over  the  tiling  of  an  adjoining  house. 

The  morning  of  the  following  day  was  spent  in  talking  with 
those  who  came  to  take  their  leave,  and  tears  were  freely  shed 
on  both  sides.  Crowds  were  hanging  about  the  door  when  he 
left,  and  a  company  of  twenty  friends  accompanied  him  out  of 
the  city  on  horseback  ;  and  if  he  was  leaving  no  small  gifts 
behind,  he  also  was  carrying  away  a  substantial  gift  of  two 
hundred  pounds  for  his  orphan-house.  He  travelled  by  way 
of  Kingswood,  where  the  colliers,  unknown  to  him,  had,  he 
says,  'prepared  an  hospitable  entertainment,  and  were  very 
forward  for  me  to  lay  the  first  stone  of  their  school.  At  length 
I  complied,  and  a  man  giving  me  a  piece  of  ground,  in  case 

Mr.  C should  refuse  to  grant  them  any,  I  laid  a  stone, 

and  then  kneeled  down,  and  prayed  God  that  the  gates  of  hell 
might  not  prevail  against  our  design.'  This  became  the  famous 
Kingswood  School,  the  original  of  the  institution  in  which  the 
sons  of  successive  generations  of  Wesleyan  Methodist  ministers 
have  been  educated. 

Whitefield  had  not  been  gone  three  hours  from  Bristol,  when 
his  friend  Wesley  submitted,  as  he  says,  to  make  himself  more 
vile  than  he  had  on  the  preceding  day,  when  he  preached  to 
one  of  the  societies,  by  proclaiming  in  the  highways  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation  to  about  three  thousand  people  ;  and  on 
the  following  Sunday  he  stepped  fearlessly  into  the  severe 
path  that  Whitefield  had  shown  him  a  week  before.  Within 
three  weeks  of  Wesley's  assuming  the  lead  of  the  Methodist 
movement,  scenes  such  as  Whitefield's  preaching  had  not  yet 
created  became  common  :  some  of  the  hearers  were  seized 
with  fearful  agony  and  cried  out ;  then  they  as  suddenly 
shouted  for  joy. 


WHITEFIELDS   CURATE  87 

On  April  9th  Whitefield,  after  having  paid  a  second  visit 
to  Wales,  reached  his  native  city.  Early  friends  who  took  an 
interest  in  him  and  his  work  must  have  been  peculiarly  grati- 
fied both  with  his  vast  and  extending  influence  and  with  the 
humble  manner  in  which  he  bore  his  successes  ;  and  there 
was  also  one,  who  had  not  been  counted  of  that  number,  who 
had  more  joy  than  any  of  them.  It  was  '  old  Cole,'  the 
Dissenting  minister.  Some  one  had  told  the  good  man  the 
smart  saying  of  the  youth  of  thirteen  about  stories  in  the 
pulpit,  and  when  he  heard  Whitefield  tell  one  in  one  of  the 
city  pulpits,  he  quietly  remarked  :  '  I  find  that  young  White- 
field  can  now  tell  stories  as  well  as  old  Cole.'  He  used  to 
subscribe  himself  Whitefield's  curate,  and  follow  him  in  his 
excursions  into  the  country  to  preach  after  him.  '  These  are 
days  of  the  Son  of  man,  indeed  ! '  he  would  exclaim,  as  he 
followed  up  the  younger  man's  work.  He  had  an  end  beauti- 
fully in  keeping  with  his  zeal  and  the  simplicity  of  his  char- 
acter. One  evening,  while  preaching,  he  was  struck  with 
death ;  he  then  asked  for  a  chair  to  lean  on,  till  he  concluded 
his  sermon.  That  finished,  they  carried  him  upstairs,  and  he 
died.  '  O  blessed  God  ! '  exclaims  Whitefield,  when  telling  the 
story,  '  if  it  be  Thy  holy  will,  may  my  exit  be  like  his  !  '  It 
was  not  unlike. 

Passing  through  Chafford,  Painswick,  Stroud,  Stonehouse, 
Cheltenham,  Badsey,  Evesham,  and  Bengeworth,  and  preach- 
ing in  bowling-greens,  in  town-halls,  and  in  fields,  as  he  went, 
he  came  to  Oxford.  Here,  through  his  going  to  exhort  one  of 
the  societies,  the  vice-chancellor  fell  foul  of  him.  The  society 
had  before  been  threatened,  if  they  continued  to  meet  for  ex- 
hortation ;  and  when  the  '  were  all  upstairs,  and  on  the  point 
of  bidding  Whitefield  goodbye  before  he  started  for  London, 
the  vice-chancellor  sent  for  him  to  come  down.  In  a  passion, 
he  demanded  to  know  if  Whitefield  had  his  name  in  any  book 


88  GEORGE   WH1TEF1ELD 

there.  '  Yes,  sir,'  was  the  reply,  '  but  I  intend  to  take  it  out 
soon.'  The  vice-chancellor  said  :  '  Yes  ;  and  you  had  best  take 
yourself  out  too,  or  otherwise  I  will  lay  you  by  the  heels.  What 
do  you  mean  by  going  about  and  alienating  people's  affections 
from  their  proper  pastors  ?  Your  works  are  full  of  vanity  and 
nonsense ;  you  pretend  to  inspiration.  If  you  ever  come  again 
in  this  manner  among  these  people,  I  will  lay  you  first  by  the 
heels,  and  these  shall  follow.'  Then  he  turned  his  back  and 
went  away.  Whitefield  turned,  and  having  prayed  with  his 
friends,  set  out  for  London.  Letters  from  Savannah,  contain- 
ing good  news,  met  him  at  Uxbridge,  and  made  him  desire  an 
early  departure  to  the  people  of  his  charge. 

His  eleven  weeks'  labour  in  the  country  had  kindled  a  fire 
which  is  not  extinguished  to  this  day. 


CHAPTER  VI 
May  to  August,  1739 

IN    MOORFIELDS — ON    COMMONS — AT    FAIRS    AND    RACES 

MR.  STONEHOUSE,  vicar  of  Islington,  was  favourable 
to  Methodism,  but  his  churchwarden  was  of  another 
mind.  As  soon  as  Whitefield  arrived  in  London,  the  vicar 
gave  him  the  use  of  his  pulpit  for  a  week-day  service.  The 
churchwarden  would  dispute  Whitefield's  right.  In  the  midst 
of  the  prayers  he  entered  the  church,  demanded  Whitefield's 
licence,  and  forbade  his  preaching  without  one.  No  licence 
was  forthcoming,  nor  was  the  preacher  sorry  for  that,  though 
by  being  in  priest's  orders  and  holding  the  living  of  Savannah, 
which  was  in  the  diocese  of  London,  he  felt  that  he  had  legal 
standing  ground.  For  peace'  sake  he  determined  not  to  preach 
in  the  church.  When  the  communion  service  was  over  he 
withdrew  to  the  churchyard,  and  preached  there,  feeling  assured 
that  his  Master  now  called  him  out  in  London  as  well  as  in 
Bristol.  In  a  letter,  written  to  a  friend  that  day,  he  said  that 
his  Master  had,  by  His  providence  and  Spirit,  compelled  him 
to  preach  in  the  churchyard  at  Islington.  '  To-morrow  I  am  to 
repeat  that  mad  trick,  and  on  Sunday  to  go  out  into  Moorfields. 
The  word  of  the  Lord  runs  and  is  glorified.  People's  hearts 
seem  quite  broken.  God  strengthens  me  exceedingly.  I 
preach  till  I  sweat  through  and  through.'     He  evidently  was 


go  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

well  satisfied  with  being  driven  to  adopt  his  country  practices, 
or  he  would  not  have  announced  his  intention  to  preach  in 
Moorfields  on  the  second  day  after  his  expulsion,  or  with- 
drawal, whichever  it  may  be  called,  from  Islington  Church. 

The  news  of  his  going  to  Moorfields  soon  spread  through 
the  city  ;  and  many,  on  hearing  it,  said  that  if  he  ventured  into 
that  domain  of  the  rabble  he  would  never  come  out  alive. 
Moorfields,  which  had  been  the  first   brickyard  of  London, 
next  the  exercise  ground  of  the  city  archers,  then  the  site  of 
Bedlam,  and  afterwards  the  City  Mall,  where  fashion  took  its 
daily  stroll,  had  fallen  into  possession  of  the  roughest  part  of 
the  population,  simply  by  this  part's  presenting  itself  in  the 
presence  of  fashion,  and  desiring  to  share,  in  its  peculiar  way, 
the  shade  of  the  trees  and  the  smoothness  of  the  paths.     The 
partnership  was  quietly  declined.     To  this  place  and  to  this 
people  Whitefield  felt  himself  called  to  take  his  message  of  love 
and  peace.     On  Sunday  morning,  April  29th,  an  '  exceeding 
great  multitude '  assembled  in  the  fields  to  hear  him ;  but  to 
while  away  the  time  before  his  arrival  there  was  a  little  pre- 
liminary sport  in  breaking  to  pieces  a  table  which  had  been 
placed  for  his  pulpit.     In  due  time  he  drove  up  in  a  coach, 
accompanied  by  some  friends,  and  with  one  of  them  on  either 
side,  attempted  to  force  his  way  to  the  place  where  the  table 
ought  to  have  been  found.    His  body-guard  was  soon  detached 
from  him,  and  he  was  left  at  the  mercy  of  the  congregation, 
which  at  once  parted  and  made  an  open  way  for  him  to  the 
middle  of  the  fields,  and  thence — for  there  was  no  pulpit  there 
— to  the  wall  which  divided  the  upper  and  lower  fields,  upon 
which  he  took  his  stand.     It  was  a  novel  sight  to  the  preacher 
— that  mass  of  London  rabble — as  his  eye  ranged  over  it ;  it 
was  a  more  novel  sight  to  the  people — that  young  clergyman 
of  twenty-four,  in  gown,  bands,  and  cassock,  as  he  lifted  him- 
self up  before  them.     His  tall,  graceful  figure  ;  his  manly  and 


FIRST  SERMON  IN  MOORFIELDS  91 

commanding  bearing ;  his  clear,  blue  eyes,  that  melted  with 
tenderness  and  kindness ;  his  raised  hand,  which  called  for 
attention — everything  about  him  declared  him  a  man  who  was 
capable  of  ruling  them  ;  and  they  were  willing  to  listen  to  him. 
When  he  spoke,  and  they  heard  his  strong  but  sweet  voice, 
exquisitely  modulated  to  express  the  deepest,  strongest  passion, 
or  the  soberest  instruction,  or  the  most  indignant  remonstrance, 
they  stood  charmed  and  subdued.  Then  his  message  was  so 
solemn  and  so  gracious,  something  in  which  every  one  was 
interested  for  time  and  for  eternity ;  and  he  delivered  it  as 
if  it  were  all  real  to  him,  as  indeed  it  was ;  as  if  he  believed 
it  and  loved  it,  and  wanted  them  also  to  accept  it,  as  indeed 
he  did.  No  scoffer  durst  raise  his  shout,  no  disturber  durst 
meddle  with  his  neighbour,  as  the  thrilling  text  flew  all  around, 
every  one  hearing  it,  'Watch,  therefore,  for  ye  know  neither 
the  day  nor  the  hour  in  which  the  Son  of  man  cometh  ' ;  and 
as  the  preacher,  with  finger  pointed  upwards,  cried,  '  There 
.shall  be  a  day  in  which  these  heavens  shall  be  wrapped  up 
like  a  scroll — the  elements  melt  with  fervent  heat — this  earth 
and  all  things  therein  be  burnt  up,  and  every  soul  of  every 
nation  summoned  to  appear  before  the  dreadful  tribunal  of 
the  righteous  Judge  of  quick  and  dead,  to  receive  rewards  or 
punishments  according  to  the  deeds  done  in  their  bodies.' 
Quietness  and  attention  reigned  through  all  the  host  while, 
for  perhaps  an  hour  and  a  half,  he  spoke  of  the  wise  and 
the  foolish  virgins,  and  then — for  he  had  a  pleasant  egotism, 
which  for  a  moment  turned  men's  minds  to  himself  only  to 
direct  them  onward  to  the  Master — entreated  them,  with  a  last 
entreaty,  not  to  reject  his  message  because  he  was  young  : — 

'  Oh  !  do  not  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  me,'  he  begged  ;  '  do  not  reject  the 
message  on  account  of  the  meanness  of  the  messenger  !  I  am  a  child,  a 
youth  of  uncircumcised  lips,  but  the  Lord  has  chosen  me  that  the  glory 
might  be  all  His  own.  Had  He  sent  to  invite  you  by  a  learned  Rabbi, 
you  might  have  been  tempted  to  think  the  man  had  done  something.  But 
now  God  has  sent  a  child  that  cannot  speak,  that  the  excellency  of  the 


92  GEORGE   U'/IITEFIELD 

power  may.be  seen  to  be  not  of  man,  but  of  God.  Let  letter-learned 
Pharisees,  then,  despise  my  youth  ;  I  care  not  how  vile  I  appear  in  the 
sight  of  such  men — I  glory  in  it  ;  and  I  am  persuaded,  if  any  of  you  should 
be  set  upon  your  watch  by  this  preaching,  you  will  have  no  reason  to  repent 
that  God  sent  a  child  to  cry,  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  !  "  O,  my 
brethren  !  the  thought  of  being  instrumental  in  bringing  some  of  you  to 
glory  fills  me  with  fresh  zeal.  Once  more,  therefore,  I  entreat  you  — 
"Watch,  watch  and  pray"  ;  for  the  Lord  Jesus  will  receive  all  that  call 
upon  Him  faithfully.  Let  that  cry,  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh  !  " 
be  continually  sounding  in  your  ears  ;  and  begin  now  to  live  as  though  you 
were  assured  this  was  the  night  in  which  you  were  to  be  summoned  to  go 
forth  to  Him.' 

Whitefield,  it  will  be  seen,  preached  up  to  his  congregation ; 
he  gave  them  the  best.  Think  of  a  theme  so  lofty,  of  a  manner 
so  bold  yet  so  humble,  of  a  spirit  moved  with  such  yearning 
for  a  crowd,  hundreds  of  whom  had  come  for  sport,  and  score's 
for  violence  and  crime.  He  saw  in  them  men  who  had  been 
made  in  the  image  of  God,  and  for  whom  Christ  had  died.  He 
summoned  them  to  their  high  duties  and  privileges  ;  he  laid 
on  them  their  solemn  responsibilities  ;  he  pleaded  with  them, 
and  wept  over  them  as  with  a  mother's  love ;  he  opened 
judgment  and  heaven  and  hell  to  their  view ;  he  called  upon 
them  to  forsake  sin  and  come  to  God  ;  he  offered  them  pardon 
and  reconciliation  and  eternal  life  through  the  blood  of  Christ. 
And  the  roughs  were  transformed  into  saints ! 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  evening  of  the  same  day  he  met,  on 
Kennington  Common,1  an  audience  computed  at  twenty 
thousand,  and  of  a  higher  class  of  people  than  he  had 
addressed  in  the  morning.  The  wind,  which  was  favourable, 
carried  his  words  to  the  furthest  hearer ;  the  whole  company 
lis-tened  with  as  much  decorum  as  a  congregation  in  a  church, 
joined  in  the  Psalm  and  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  dispersed, 
evidently  touched  and  moved  by  what  they  had  heard. 

'  Criminals  were  executed  here,  and  in  old  prints  the  congregations  are 
represented  as  fringed  with  many  of  them  hanging  on  the  gallows. 


EFFECTS   OF  HIS  PREACHING  93 

All  his  time  was  now  devoted  to  preparation  for  the  voyage 
to  Georgia,  and  to  open-air  preaching.  All  went  well  between 
him  and  the  Trustees,  who  received  him  with  much  civility ; 
agreed  to  everything  he  asked ;  and  gave  him  a  grant  of  five 
hundred  acres  of  land,  to  him  and  his  successors  for  ever,  for 
the  use  of  the  orphan-house.  The  liberality  of  the  Trustees 
was  rivalled  by  that  of  the  congregations  at  Moorfields  and 
Kennington  Common,  for  in  nine  days  he  collected  from  them 
almost  two  hundred  pounds.  The  common  was  his  church 
on  Sunday  evening  and  during  the  week,  and  at  the  close  of 
the  services  he  stood  on  the  eminence  from  which  he  had 
preached,  to  receive  the  gifts  of  the  people,  who  crowded  to 
him  from  below.  Moorfields  was  his  church  on  the  Sunday 
morning,  and  after  his  third  service  there  he  collected  fifty-two 
pounds  nineteen  shillings  and  sixpence,  more  than  twenty 
pounds  of  which  was  in  half-pence.  He  declares  that  he  was 
nearly  weary  of  receiving  their  mites,  and  that  one  man  could 
not  carry  the  load  home.  The  evident  emotion  of  the  people 
while  he  preached,  their  awe,  their  silence,  their  tears,  and  the 
generosity  with  which,  evening  after  evening,  they  responded 
to  his  appeals  for  his  orphan-house,  showed  that  he  had  their 
faith  and  sympathy,  and  that  his  word  was  bringing  forth  fruit. 
Letters  came  telling  him  how  useful  his  preaching  had  been  to 
the  writers  ;  and  many  persons  waited  on  him  to  receive  further 
private  instruction.  He  even  says  that  he  could  mark  an 
alteration  for  the  better  in  the  congregation  at  Kennington 
Common,  which  had  from  the  first  been  exemplary.  No  doubt 
many  came  from  anything  but  religious  motives,  as  where  is 
the  congregation  which  is  without  the  idle,  the  formal,  the 
curious,  the  foolish,  who  do  not  come  to  be  made  any  better, 
and  who  would  be  greatly  startled  if  they  were  ?  The  second 
congregation  at  Moorfields,  which  was  composed  of  about 
twenty  thousand  people,  most  likely  had  many  sightseers ;  and 


94  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

so,  most  likely,  had  the  congregation  on  the  common,  on  the 
evening  of  the  same  day — a  congregation  which  was  reckoned 
to  consist  of  between  thirty  and  forty  thousand  persons  on  foot 
besides  many  horsemen,  and  about  eighty  coaches.  The  sight 
that  evening  was  such  as  surprised  even  Whitefield,  well- 
accustomed  as  he  had  become  to  look  down  upon  vast  crowds. 

Quick,  enterprising  men,  who  perhaps  would  have  had  as 
much  pleasure,  if  not  a  little  more,  in  erecting  stands  on  a 
racecourse,  or  stalls  at  a  wake,  saw  that  a  sunshiny  day  for 
trade  had  come,  and  soon  provided  accommodation  in  the 
shape  of  waggons,  scaffolds,  and  other  contrivances ;  and  the 
audience  gladly  paid  for  it.  There  was  a  pew-rent  and  a 
collection  at  every  service  ;  but  with  this  advantage,  that  no 
official  brought  the  collecting-box  round,  and  no  hearer  was 
compelled  to  occupy  a  stand  or  go  without  the  privilege  of 
hearing. 

It  is  said  that  the  singing  of  these  congregations  could  be 
heard  two  miles  off,  and  Whitefi eld's  voice  nearly  a  mile. 

Much  as  Whitefield  felt  the  importance  of  his  work,  deeply 
persuaded  as  he  was  that  God  had  called  him  to  it,  and 
encouraging  as  were  the  sympathy  and  help  of  the  people,  he 
was  not  able  to  throw  off  some  sense  of  discomfort  arising 
from  his  being  an  outcast  from  the  sanctuary  and  pulpits  of 
his  Church,  and  from  his  having  to  gather  his  money  for  the 
orphan-house  in  such  an  irregular  way.  Something  of  this 
feeling  manifests  itself  in  an  entry  in  his  journal  while  he  was 
in  the  first  flush  of  his  out-door  popularity  : — 


'  I  doubt  not,'  he  says,  '  but  many  self-righteous  bigots,  when  they  see 
me  spreading  out  my  hands  to  offer  Jesus  Christ  freely  to  all,  are  ready  to 
cry  out,  "  How  glorious  did  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield  look  to-day,  when, 
neglecting  the  dignity  of  a  clergyman,  he  stood  venting  his  enthusiastic 
ravings  in  a  gown  and  cassock  upon  a  common,  and  collecting  mites  from 
the  poor  people  ! "     But  if  this  is  to  be  vile,  Lord  grant  that    I  may  be 


•ONE   OF   WHITE  FIELD'S  GANG'  95 

more  vile.  I  know  this  foolishness  of  preaching  is  made  instrumental  to 
the  conversion  and  edification  of  numbers.  Ye  scoffers,  mock  on  ;  I  rejoice, 
yea,  and  will  rejoice.' 

The  intenseness  of  his  feeling  while  writing  those  words 
was  not  the  calm  satisfaction  of  one  who  could  afford  to  let 
others  scoff  or  praise  as  they  might  please ;  it  was  the  struggle 
of  a  man  who  felt  acutely  the  disadvantages  of  his  new  posi- 
tion, and  who  was  determined  to  accept  them  only  because 
they  were  associated  with  duty  and  heavenly  privilege  ;  there 
was  a  conflict  between  the  flesh  and  the  Spirit. 

It  is  not  an  unwelcome  release  to  get  disengaged  from  these 
eager,  excited  congregations,  to  follow  the  preacher,  and  mark 
how  he  attempted  to  fulfil  the  precepts  he  had  publicly  taught. 
He  does  not  appear  to  disadvantage  when  seen  nearer  at  hand. 
One  day  he  received  a  letter  dated  from  Bethlehem  Hospital, 
No.  50,  signed  Joseph  Periam.  Periam  was  supposed  to  be 
mad,  but  in  a  new  way ;  he  was  '  Methodically  mad ' ;  and  his 
tender  relations,  father  and  sister,  had  sent  him  to  Bethlehem 
Hospital  until  the  fits  should  leave  him.  The  officials  of  the 
hospital  treated  him,  on  his  reception,  with  the  gross  cruelty 
which  one-while  was  practised  towards  all  who  were  of  weak 
mind.  They  thought  he  ought  to  have  a  huge  dose  of  physic, 
but  Periam,  knowing  that  he  was  quite  well,  declined  it,  when 
fou:  or  five  attendants  '  took  hold  of  him,  cursed  him  most 
heartily,  put  a  key  into  his  mouth,  threw  him  upon  the  bed, 
and  said  (though  Whitefield  had  not  then  either  seen  him  or 
heard  of  him),  "  You  are  one  of  Whitefield's  gang,"  and  so 
drenched  him.'  Orders  were  given  that  neither  Whitefield, 
nor  any  of  Whitefield's  friends,  should  see  him ;  but  Whitefield 
and  his  friend  Seward  were  both  admitted  when,  in  answer  to 
Periam's  request,  they  went  to  the  hospital.  They  thought 
him  sound,  both  in  body  and  mind.  His  sister  was  of  a 
different  opinion,  and  cited  three  symptoms  of  his  madness. 


96  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

First,  that  he  fasted  for  near  a  fortnight.  Secondly,  that  he 
prayed  so  as  to  be  heard  four  storey  high.  Thirdly,  that  he  had 
sold  his  clothes,  and  given  them  to  the  poor.  The  fact  is,  he 
was  a  literalist.  In  his  first  religious  anxiety,  reading  one  day 
about  the  young  man  whom  our  Lord  commanded  to  sell  all 
and  give  it  to  the  poor,  he  thought  that  the  words  must  be 
taken  literally — so  he  sold  his  clothes,  and  gave  the  money  to 
the  poor.  At  length  Whitefield  and  his  friends  secured 
Periam's  release,  on  condition  that  he  should  be  taken  to 
Georgia.  Accordingly  he  went  with  Whitefield  to  America  ; 
there  he  married  one  of  the  orphan-house  mistresses.  After  a 
few  years  both  of  them  died,  and  two  of  their  sons,  promising 
boys,  became  inmates  of  the  institution. 

The  ship  Elizabeth,  in  which  Whitefield  had  taken  berths  for 
himself  and  eleven  others,  was  detained  by  an  embargo  until 
August,  and  during  the  odd  weeks  thus  accidentally  thrown 
into  his  hands  he  laboured  with  tremendous  energy,  and 
abundantly  fulfilled  the  animated  charge  which  Charles  Wesley 
addressed  to  him  in  a  poem  of  nine  verses  : — 

'  Brother  in  Christ,  and  well-beloved, 

Attend,  and  add  thy  prayer  to  mine  ; 
As  Aaron  called,  yet  inly  moved 
To  minister  in  things  divine. 

Faithful,  and  often  owned  of  God, 

Vessel  of  grace,  by  Jesus  used  ; 
Stir  up  the  gift  on  thee  bestowed, 

The  gift  by  hallowed  hands  transfused.' 


'  It  is  not  strange  to  come  upon  so  strong  a  statement  concerning  sacra- 
mental efficacy,  in  the  poem  of  a  man  who  was  such  a  High  Churchman  that 
he  made  careful  arrangements  to  be  buried  in  consecrated  ground ;  but 
alas  for  human  ignorance,  that  piece  of  St.  Mary-le-bone  churchyard  in 
which  he  is  laid  is  said  to  be  the  only  piece  not  consecrated. 


DR.  DODDRIDGE  9/ 

Go  where  the  darkest  tempest  lowers, 

Thy  foes'  triumphant  wrestler  foil  ; 
Thrones,  principalities,  and  powers, 

Engage,  o'ercome,  and  take  the  spoil. 

The  weapons  of  thy  warfare  take, 

With  truth  and  meekness  armed  ride  on  ; 
Mighty,  through  God,  hell's  kingdom  shake, 

Satan's  strongholds,  through  God,  pull  down.' 


Not  to  follow  him  step  by  step,  we  may  still  single  out  some 
experiences  which  will  illustrate  his  own  mode  of  action,  the 
spirit  that  impelled  him,  the  opposition  he  met  with,  and  the 
encouragements  that  cheered  him.  It  was  at  Northampton, 
the  third  place  at  which  he  stayed  for  preaching  on  one  of  his 
short  excursions  from  London,  that  he  met  with  the  pious, 
able,  and  accomplished  Dr.  Doddridge,  who  was  striving  with 
unwearied  industry  to  keep  the  lamps  of  learning  and  religion 
burning  among  the  Dissenters.  The  doctor,  whose  attention 
to  those  *  forms  of  civility  and  complaisance  which  are  usual 
among  well-bred  people,'  is  duly  noted  by  his  biographer, 
received  Whitefield  most  courteously — perhaps  more  cour- 
teously than  joyfully,  for  he  had  not  always  thought  favourably 
of  his  visitor,  and  some  of  his  brethren  were  not  so  well 
inclined  as  himself  to  the  new  sect,  and  in  due  time  sent  him 
'several  angry  letters,'  reproaching  him  for  his  'civility'  to  the 
Methodist  leaders.  At  any  rate,  the  chapel  pulpit  was  not 
offered,  and  Whitefield  had  to  take  his  stand  at  the  starting- 
post  on  the  common. 

Bedford  had  a  clergyman,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rogers,  who  had 
adopted  Whitefield's  plan  of  open-air  preaching;  his  pulpit 
was  the  steps  of  a  windmill ;  and  there  Whitefield  preached  to 
three  thousand  people.  Good  news  came  to  him  from  Scot- 
land.    Ebenezer  Erskine,  the  father  of  United  Presbyterianism, 

8 


98  GEORGE  WH1TEF1ELD 

wrote  to  say  that  he  had  preached  to  fourteen  thousand  people. 
Yet  Whitefield  was  ill  at  ease,  even  when  other  ministers  were 
moving  in  the  path  he  had  chosen.  The  great  need  of  the 
country  called  for  more  help,  and  in  his  burning  love  for  souls, 
he  prayed,  '  Lord,  do  Thou  spirit  up  more  of  my  dear  friends 
and  fellow-labourers  to  go  out  into  the  highways  and  hedges, 
to  compel  poor  sinners  to  come  in.  Amen.'  His  soul  was 
also  stirred  within  him  to  testify  'against  those  vile  teachers' 
— so  he  calls  them — '  and  only  those,  who  say  we  are  not  now 
to  receive  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  who  count  the  doctrine  of  the 
new  birth  enthusiasm.  Out  of  your  own  mouths  I  will  con- 
demn you,  you  blind  guides.  Did  you  not  at  the  time  ot 
ordination  tell  the  bishop  that  you  were  inwardly  moved  by 
the  Holy  Ghost  to  take  upon  you  the  administration  of  the 
Church?  Surely,  at  that  time,  you  acted  the  crime  of  Ananias 
and  Sapphira  over  again.  "Surely,"  says  Bishop  Burnet,  "you 
lied  not  only  unto  man,  but  unto  God." '  These  words  might 
have  had  reference  to  a  pastoral  letter  written  about  this  time 
by  the  Bishop  of  London,  on  '  Lukewarmness  and  Enthusiasm,' 
in  which  the  people  of  London  and  Westminster  were  specially 
warned  against  the  enthusiast,  George  Whitefield ;  but  from 
the  'civil'  reception  the  bishop  gave  him  two  days  after  he 
penned  them,  we  may  infer  that  there  was  peace  thus  far. 
But  count  Whitefield  wrong,  or  count  him  right,  in  assailing 
other  clergymen,  the  heart  warms  to  him  as  he  is  seen  going 
out,  sick  and  weak,  to  preach  in  the  rain  or  the  sunshine  ;  his 
eyes  overflowing  with  tears,  while  to  his  weeping  congregations 
he  explains  his  favourite  doctrines  of  the  new  birth  and  justi- 
fication by  faith  ;  his  heart  so  moved  when  he  gets  upon  the 
love  and  free  grace  of  Jesus  Christ,  that,  though  an  hour  and 
a  half  has  passed  by,  he  would  fain  continue  till  midnight.  A 
hint  from  him  to  the  congregation  at  Moorfields,  that  he  must 
soon  leave  the  country,  makes  it  weep  as  for  a  brother,  and 


WHITEFIELD  AND  WESLE  Y  AT  BLACK  HE  A  TH    99 

ejaculations  and  prayers  for  him  are  poured  out  on  every  side. 
The  numbers  who  flocked  to  hear  him  increased,  and  at 
Kennington  Common  one  Sunday  their  weeping  was  so  loud 
as  almost  to  drown  his  voice. 

In  the  early  part  of  June  he  preached  mostly  at  Blendon, 
Bexley,  and  Blackheath  ;  and  had  great  enjoyment  in  the 
fellowship  of  many  friends  (among  whom  was  the  vicar  of 
Bexley),  who  were  of  the  same  mind  as  himself.  It  was  on  a 
Thursday  evening  that  'he  introduced,'  he  says,  'his  honoured 
and  reverend  friend,  Mr.  John  Wesley,  to  preach  at  Black- 
heath.'     Wesley  says  in  his  journal — 

'  I  went  with  Mr.  Whitefield  to  Blackheath,  where  were,  I  believe, 
twelve  or  fourteen  thousand  people.  He  a  little  surprised  me,  by  desiring 
me  to  preach  in  his  stead  ;  which  I  did  (though  nature  recoiled)  on  my 
favourite  subject,  "Jesus  Christ,  who  of  God  is  made  unto  us  wisdom, 
righteousness,  sanctification,  and  redemption."  I  was  greatly  moved  with 
compassion  for  the  rich  that  were  there,  to  whom  I  made  a  particular 
application.  Some  of  them  seemed  to  attend,  while  others  drove  away 
their  coaches  from  so  uncouth  a  preacher.' 

Whitefield  continues  in  his  journal — 

'  The  Lord  give  him  ten  thousand  times  more  success  than  He  has  given 
me  !  After  sermon  we  spent  the  evening  most  agreeably  together,  with 
many  Christian  friends,  at  the  "  Green  Man."  About  ten  we  admitted  all 
to  come  that  would.  The  room  was  soon  filled.  I  exhorted  and  prayed 
for  near  an  hour,  and  then  went  to  bed,  rejoicing  that  another  fresh  inroad 
was  made  upon  Satan's  territories,  by  Mr.  Wesley's  following  me  in  field- 
preaching  in  London  as  well  as  in  Bristol.  Lord,  speak  the  word,  and 
great  shall  the  company  of  such  preachers  be.     Amen.     Amen.' 

Towards  the  end  of  the  month  his  enemies  devised  a  new 
scheme  for  hindering  him.  Whenever  he  journeyed  reports 
were  circulated  that  he  was  wounded,  or  killed,  or  had  died 
suddenly.  Coming  to  Blackheath  one  evening,  after  an 
excursion  into  the  country,   he  found,   not  his   usual  twenty 


ioo  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

thousand,  but  one  thousand,  and  the  rest  had  stayed  at  home, 
because  of  a  report  that  he  was  dead.  Wherever  he  went  he 
found  the  people  much  surprised  and  rejoiced  to  see  him 
alive.  Another  blow  fell  on  him  at  the  same  time.  His 
friend,  the  vicar  of  Bexley,  was  forbidden  to  allow  h'im  his 
pulpit.  That  night  he  preached  on  Blackheath,  to  as  large  a 
congregation  as  ever,  from  the  text,  'And  they  cast  him  out,' 
and  recommended  the  people  to  prepare  for  a  gathering 
storm. 

Matters  were  a  little  threatening  when  he  visited  Tewkesbury 
on  July  2nd.  He  had  created  great  excitement  at  Gloucester, 
at  Randwick,  and  at  Hampton  Common.  The  bailiffs  of 
Tewkesbury  had  raised  much  opposition  to  his  coming  thither 
also,  and  had  him,  on  his  arrival  at  his  inn,  attended  by  four 
constables.  These  were  quickly  sent  off  by  a  lawyer,  a  friend 
of  Whitefield,  who  demanded  their  warrant,  and  found  that 
they  had  none.  Three  thousand  people  attended  an  evening 
service  outside  the  liberties  of  the  town. 

The  next  morning  he  waited  upon  one  of  the  bailiffs  to  ask 
his  reason  for  sending  the  constables.  The  bailiff  replied 
that  it  was  the  determination  of  the  whole  council,  and  that 
the  people  had  been  noisy,  and  reflected  upon  the  bailiffs. 
'  The  noise,'  Whitefield  answered,  '  was  owing  to  their  sending 
the  constables  with  their  staves,  to  apprehend  me  when  I 
should  come  into  the  town.'  The  bailiff  retorted  in  anger, 
that  a  certain  judge  had  declared  his  determination  to  take 
Whitefield  up  as  a  vagrant  if  he  preached  near  him.  '  He  is 
very  welcome,'  said  Whitefield,  '  to  do  as  he  pleases,  but  I 
apprehend  no  magistrate  has  power  to  stop  my  preaching, 
even  in  the  streets,  if  I  think  proper.'  '  No,  sir,'  said  the 
bailiff;  'if  you  preach  here  to-morrow,  you  shall  have  the 
constable  to  attend  you.'  Whitefield  went  away,  telling  him 
first  that  he  thought  it  his  duty  as  a  minister  to  inform  him 


THE  BAILIFFS  AT  TEWKESBURY  101 

that  magistrates  were  intended  to  be  a  terror  to  evildoers,  and 
not  to  those  who  do  well ;  he  desired  him  to  be  as  careful  to 
appoint  constables  to  attend  at  the  next  horse  race,  balls, 
assemblies,  &c.  Whitefield  and  his  friends  then  left  for 
Evesham,  where  he  met  with  sympathising  friends,  and  a 
threat  from  the  magistrates,  that,  if  he  preached  within  their 
liberties,  they  would  apprehend  him.  Next  morning,  however, 
he  did  preach  ;  and  the  magistrates  were  quiet.  Passing  on 
to  Pershore,  he  was  kindly  welcomed  by  the  incumbent,  and, 
apparently,  from  him  procured  the  loan  of  a  field  in  Tewkes- 
bury ;  then  at  five  in  the  evening  he  turned,  with  a  company 
of  a  hundred  and  twenty  horsemen,  towards  Tewkesbury, 
which  he  found  much  alarmed,  people  from  all  parts  crowding 
the  streets.  He  rode  right  through  the  town  to  the  field,  and 
preached  to  about  six  thousand  hearers  ;  the  bailiffs  wisely 
refrained  from  keeping  their  threat,  and  no  constable  came 
within  sight.  Immediately  after  the  sermon  he  took  horse,  and 
reached  Gloucester  near  midnight.  The  exciting  day's  work 
had  begun  at  seven  o'clock  at  Evesham,  and  he  was  preaching 
next  morning  at  ten,  with  a  '  heart  full  of  love  to  his  dear 
countrymen.' 

What  trials  he  had  were  counterbalanced  by  the  happy 
effects  of  his  labours,  visible  in  the  places  he  visited.  Kings- 
wood  had  put  on  a  different  appearance ;  the  colliers,  who 
had  formerly  been  the  terror  of  the  neighbourhood,  were  to  be 
heard  singing  hymns  in  the  woods,  instead  of  pouring  out 
blasphemy ;  the  school  had  been  carried  on  so  successfully  by 
Wesley,  that  in  July,  when  Whitefield  visited  the  place,  the 
roof  was  ready  to  be  put  up.  Methodism  was  yielding  its  first- 
fruits  of  purity,  of  honesty,  of  quietness,  and  of  godliness, 
among  the  humbler  classes.  It  would  have  been  gratifying 
had  any  record  been  kept  of  particular  cases,  which  might 
have   served   as   examples   of   the   rest.      This,    however,    is 


ro2  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

wanting,  and  we  are  mainly  guided  by  general  statements 
about  the  spirit  and  behaviour  of  the  congregations  where  he 
had  preached  somewhat  continuously.  Curious  hearers  were 
dropping  off,  and  the  vast  number  that  remained  may  be 
fairly  supposed  to  have  had  a  profound  interest  in  what  they 
heard.  The  numbers  were  countless  who  came  after  the 
services  to  ask  for  counsel  as  to  how  they  might  leave  the 
'city  of  destruction,'  which  they  had  too  long  inhabited.  One 
incident,  related  in  the  letter  of  a  Quaker  to  Whitefield,  may 
serve  to  show  what  thoughts  were  finding  their  way  into 
humble  homes  throughout  all  the  land.  The  old  clerk  at 
Breferton  could  get  no  rest  in  his  spirit,  after  hearing  Whitefield 
preach  at  Badsey  ;  he  set  to  work  to  compare  what  he  had 
heard  with  the  Church  homilies  and  articles,  and  found  a 
singular  agreement  between  them.  The  landlord  of  '  Counter- 
cup,'  with  whom  he  got  into  conversation  upon  the  subject, 
informed  him  that  he  too  had  found  Whitefield's  doctrines  set 
forth  in  some  old  books  which  he  possessed,  the  refuse  of  a 
clergyman's  library.  This  fact  was  remembered  when,  shortly 
afterwards,  the  clerk,  who  was  a  tailor  by  trade,  went  to  work 
at  the  landlord's  ;  he  borrowed  the  last  book  that  was  left,  all 
the  rest  having  been  lent,  and  did  not  read  above  a  page  or  two 
before  '  the  truth  broke  in  upon  his  soul  like  lightning.'  His 
fingers  itched  for  the  book  more  than  for  his  work,  and  he  was 
allowed  to  take  it  home  with  him.  A  second  of  the  books 
which  he  borrowed  so  strengthened  him  in  his  new  faith,  that 
he  felt  as  if  he  could  die  for  it.  Always  well  esteemed  before, 
he  was  now  threatened  by  his  neighbours  with  the  loss  of 
custom  and  livelihood. 

This  wandering  life  which  Whitefield  was  living,  acceptable 
as  it  was  to  the  people  (who  on  one  occasion  at  least  rung  the 
bells  and  received  him  '  as  an  angel  of  God  ')  and  satisfactory 
to  his  own  conscience,  was  viewed  with  much  displeasure  by 


ADMONISHED  BY  BISHOP  BENSON  103 

others.  Even  Bishop  Benson  sent  him  an  affectionate  ad- 
monition to  exercise  the  authority  he  had  received  in  the 
manner  it  was  given  him,  by  preaching  the  gospel  only  to  the 
congregation  to  which  he  was  lawfully  appointed.  Whitefield 
replied  within  four  days,  and  denied  that  he  was  acting  con- 
trary to  his  commission  of  preaching  wherever  he  could,  or 
that  he  inveighed  against  the  clergy.  'As  for  declining  the 
work  in  which  I  am  engaged,'  he  said,  '  my  blood  runs  chill  at 
the  very  thought  of  it.  I  am  as  much  convinced  it  is  my  duty 
to  act  as  I  do,  as  that  the  sun  shines  at  noonday.  I  can 
foresee  the  consequences  very  well.  They  have  already,  in 
one  sense,  thrust  us  out  of  the  synagogues.  By  and  by  they 
will  think  it  is  doing  God  service  to  kill  us.  But,  my  lord,  if 
you  and  the  rest  of  the  bishops  cast  us  out,  our  great  and 
common  Master  will  take  us  up.' 

So  much  excitement  and  strong  feeling  had  been  raised, 
that  it  was  not  always  commercially  wise  for  inn-keepers  to 
admit  Whitefield  to  their  houses ;  and  at  Abingdon  he  was 
'  genteelly  told '  by  one  of  them,  that  there  was  no  room  for 
him  and  his  party.  Matters  were  worse  at  Basingstoke  the 
next  evening.  Whitefield  had  just  thrown  himself,  languid 
and  weary,  upon  the  bed,  when — to  use  his  own  odd  expres- 
sion— he  was  '  refreshed  with  the  news  that  the  landlord  would 
not  let  them  stay  under  his  roof.'  Probably  resentment  was 
the  occasion  of  the  expulsion  ;  for  one  of  the  landlord's 
children  had  been  touched  by  Whitefield's  preaching  the  last 
time  he  visited  Basingstoke.  He  and  his  friends  went  out, 
amid  the  mockery  and  gibing  of  the  crowd,  to  seek  for 
another  inn ;  and  when  they  got  one,  the  crowd  amused  itself 
by  throwing  fire  rockets  around  the  door.  It  was  too  late  to 
preach,  and  Whitefield  sought  his  own  room  ;  he  had  been 
there  about  an  hour  when  the  constable  handed  him  a  letter 
from  the  mayor,  warning  him  against  making  a  breach  of  the 


104  GEORGE   WHITE FIELD 

peace.  Whitefield  immediately  wrote  an  answer,  saying  that 
he  knew  of  no  law  against  such  meetings  as  his. 

'  If  no  law  can  be  produced,  as  a  clergyman,  I  think  it  my  duty  to  inform 
you  thai  you  ought  to  protect,  and  not  anyways  discourage,  or  permit  others 
lo  disturb,  an  assembly  of  people  meeting  together  purely  to  worship  God. 
To-morrow ,  I  hear,  there  is  to  be  an  assembly  of  another  nature  ;  he 
pleased  to  be  as  careful  to  have  the  public  peace  preserved  at  that,  and  to 
prevent  profane  cursing  and  swearing,  and  persons  breaking  the  sixth  com- 
mandment, by  bruising  each  other's  bodies  by  cudgelling  and  wrestling  ; 
and  if  you  do  not  this,  I  shall  rise  up  against  you  at  the  great  day,  and  be 
a  swift  witness  against  your  partiality.' 

Whitefield  followed  his  letter  next  morning,  and  had  an 
interview  with  the  mayor,  which  must  have  endangered  his 
gravity  much  more  than  his  temper.  His  object  was  to  see 
this  prohibitory  law,  but  the  mayor  broke  out :  '  Sir,  you 
sneered  me  in  the  letter  you  sent  last  night ;  though  I  am  a 

butcher,  yet,  sir,  I '  Whitefield  interposed  :  '  I  honour  you 

as  a  magistrate,  and  only  desire  to  know  what  law  could  be 
produced  against  my  preaching  :  in  my  opinion  there  is  none.' 
'  Sir,'  said  the  mayor,  '  you  ought  to  preach  in  a  church.' 
'  And  so  I  would,  if  your  minister  would  give  me  leave.'  The 
mayor  said  :  '  Sir,  I  believe  you  have  some  sinister  ends  in 
view  ;  why  do  you  go  about  making  a  disturbance?  '  More  of 
the  same  sort  followed,  and  the  mayor,  who  found  himself  a 
poor  match  for  the  ready  preacher,  and  had  a  fair  to  attend, 
cut  short  the  interview  by  saying  that  he  '  had  wrote '  White- 
field  another  letter,  which  he  would  send  him  yet,  if  he 
pleased.  Whitefield  thanked  him,  paid  him  the  respect  due 
to  a  magistrate,  and  took  his  leave.  The  letter  which  followed 
was  very  much  in  the  '  though-I-am-a-butcher '  style. 

Whitefield  replied  in  his  most  serious  manner,  and  had  less 
success  than  he  probably  would  have  gained  had  he  tried, 
what  he   could  so    well   use  when    he    chose — humour   and 


RE  VELS  A  T  BA SINGSTOKE  1 05 

geniality.  But  he  could  not  keep  down  his  tremendous 
earnestness,  or,  rather,  he  could  not  bring  into  action  along 
with  it  the  lighter  qualities  which  have  their  part  to  play  in  the 
intercourse  of  life.  His  soul  was  absorbed  in  the  one  thought 
of  winning  the  people  for  his  Saviour.  The  crowds  which 
were  to  assemble  at  the  revel  the  next  day  were  resolved  to 
have  their  coarse  pleasures  and  sins ;  nor  do  the  authorities 
seem  to  have  had  any  serious  intention,  except  that  of  hindering 
the  preacher  and  sheltering  them.  There  seems  reason  to 
believe  that  Whitefield  had  purposely  come  on  the  day  of  the 
revel,  and  if  he  did,  his  wisdom  may  be  questioned  ;  for  the 
people  had  time  to  become  exasperated  before  his  arrival,  and 
that  conquering  influence  which  he  generally  threw  over  his 
audiences  had  no  fair  chance  to  exert  itself.  Landlords, 
showmen,  cudgellers,  wrestlers,  and  their  attendant  rabble 
were  sure  to  be  active  on  the  side  of  their  interests ;  and  thus 
the  whole  town  had  been  set  against  him  before  he  entered  it. 
However,  being  resolved  to  go  on  with  his  work,  he  went  at 
eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  into  a  field  to  preach.  One  had 
said  that  he  should  never  come  out  alive,  and  another  that  the 
drum  should  beat  close  by  him,  but  nothing  occurred  to  hinder 
him  from  speaking  freely  against  revelling.  Only  in  going  to 
and  fro  from  the  field  did  he  meet  with  any  unpleasantness  ; 
the  rabble  and  the  boys  saluted  him  and  called  him  'strange 
names.' 

He  mounted  to  take  his  departure,  but,  he  says  : — 

'  As  I  passed  by  on  horseback,  I  saw  a  stage  ;  and  as  I  rode  further,  I 
met  divers  coming  to  the  revel  which  affected  me  so  much  I  had  no  rest 
in  my  spirit.  And  therefore,  having  asked  counsel  of  God,  and  perceiving 
an  unusual  warmth  and  power  enter  into  my  soul,  though  I  was  gone  above 
a  mile,  I  could  not  bear  to  see  so  many  dear  souls,  for  whom  Christ  had 
died,  ready  to  perish,  and  no  minister  or  magistrate  interpose.  Upon  this 
I  told  my  dear  fellow-travellers  that  I  was  resolved  to  follow  the  example 
of  Ilowel  Harris  in  Wales,  and  Id  bear  my  testimony  against  such  lying 


io6  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

vanities,  let  the  consequences,  as  to  my  own  private  person,  be  what  they 
would.  They  immediately  consenting,  I  rode  back  to  town,  got  upon  the 
stage  erected  for  the  wrestlers,  and  began  to  show  them  the  error  of  their 
ways.  Many  seemed  ready  to  hear  what  I  had  to  say  ;  but  one,  more 
zealous  than  the  rest  for  his  master,  and  fearing  conviction  every  time 
I  attempted  to  speak,  set  the  boys  on  repeating  their  huzzahs. 

'  My  soul,  I  perceived,  was  in  a  sweet  frame,  willing  to  be  offered  up, 
so  that  I  might  save  some  of  those  to  whom  I  was  about  to  speak  ;  but  all 
in  vain  !  While  I  was  on  the  stage,  one  struck  me  with  his  cudgel,  which 
I  received  with  the  utmost  love.  At  last,  finding  the  devil  would  not 
permit  them  to  give  me  audience,  I  got  off;  and  after  much  pushing  and 
thronging  me,  I  got  on  my  horse  with  unspeakable  satisfaction  within  my- 
self, that  I  had  now  begun  to  attack  the  devil  in  his  strongest  holds, 
and  had  borne  my  testimony  against  the  detestable  diversions  of  this 
generation.' 

There  had  been  more  danger  in  Basingstoke  than  he  saw, 
and  it  was  well  that  he  went  to  an  inn  and  not  to  a  friend's 
house,  as  had  been  expected.  A  band  of  twelve  ruffians  had 
been  lying  in  wait  in  that  quarter  of  the  town  where  he  was 
expected  to  sleep,  determined  to  give  him  '  a  secret  blow  and 
prevent  his  making  disturbances  ; '  and  one  of  them  had  the 
audacity  to  confess  their  intentions  to  a  Quaker  friend  of 
Whitefield — J.  Portsmouth — the  day  after  Whitefield  left  the 
town. 

Nothing  daunted  by  his  late  peril — full  particulars  of  which 
were  sent  after  him  —  he,  within  a  week,  made  another 
experiment,  almost  as  bold,  which  was  more  successful.  He 
announced  that  he  would  preach  at  Hackney  Marsh,  on  the 
day  of  a  horse-race,  and  ten  thousand  gathered  around  him, 
hardly  any  of  whom  left  him  for  the  race.  Some  who  left 
returned  very  quickly,  and  to  them  he  addressed  a  few  words 
specially. 

Before  any  censure  for  rashness  or  recklessness  is  pronounced 
upon  him  for  these  efforts,  it  should  be  well  understood  that 
he  did  not  boast  of  them  ;  that  he  did  not  covet  notoriety ; 
and  that  he  did  not  act  without  either  prayer  or  consideration. 


BEGINNING  TO  BE  A  CHRISTIAN  107 

He  both  feared  that  his  faith  might  fail  him  before  he  went  to 
Hackney  Marsh,  and  entreated  a  friend  to  pray  that  his  zeal 
might  be  tempered  with  knowledge.  '  It  would  grieve  me,'  he 
said,  '  should  I  bring  sufferings  causelessly  upon  myself.' 

It  is  almost  needless  to  say  a  word  about  the  state  of  mind 
in  which  such  labours  were  carried  on.  They  bear  their  own 
testimony  to  secret  joy  and  peace,  to  a  clear  hope  of  ever- 
lasting glory,  and  to  an  unquestioning  belief  of  the  gospel ; 
they  could  come  only  from  one  who  had  much  of  the  mind 
of  Him  who,  '  though  He  was  rich,  yet  for  our  sakes  became 
poor.'  Yet  one  or  two  sentences  from  his  letters  well  deserve 
to  be  linked  to  the  story  of  his  toils  and  sufferings.  '  As 
for  my  own  soul,  God  mightily  strengthens  me  in  the  inward 
man,  and  gives  me  often  such  foretastes  of  His  love  that  I  am 
almost  continually  wishing  to  be  dissolved  that  I  may  be  with 
Christ.  But  I  am  only  beginning  to  begin  to  be  a  Christian.' 
'  The  harvest  is  very  great.  I  am  ashamed  I  can  do  no  more 
for  Him,  who  hath  done  so  much  for  me  ;  not  by  way  of  retalia- 
tion, but  gratitude.  Fain  would  I  love  my  Master,  and  will 
not  go  from  Him ;  His  service  is  perfect  freedom  ;  His  yoke 
is  easy;  His  burden  light.' 

Controversy  always  attends  deep  religious  movements,  and, 
its  abuses  apart,  it  may  be  hailed  as  a  blessing.  It  tempers 
the  assumptions  of  the  proud,  gives  clearness  to  the  dim  con- 
ceptions of  both  parties,  and  helps  to  hold  the  religious  world 
in  equipoise.  Neither  Whitefield  nor  his  views  were  the 
worse  for  the  assaults  they  sustained,  any  more  than  the  formal 
party  of  the  Church  was  damaged  by  the  arousing  calls  which 
rang  in  their  ears  like  the  shout  of  the  hosts  of  God.  Metho- 
dist wildfire — for  there  was  wildfire  flashing  in  those  strange 
congregations  which  assembled  in  Fetter  Lane,  on  Kennington 
Common,  and  in  Bristol — needed  regulating  and  subduing, 
and  bishops  and  clergy  were  soon  at  hand  to  help. 


10S  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

The  first  shaft  was  shot  at  Whitefield,  soon  after  his  arrival 
from  Savannah,  by  a  brother  clergyman  ;  but  no  notice  was 
taken  of  it,  except  in  one  sentence  in  the  journal :  '  Thou 
shalt  answer  for  me,  O  Lord.'  The  Bishop  of  London,  Dr. 
Gibson,  now  thought  it  to  be  his  duty  to  check  him,  and  wrote 
a  pastoral  letter  on  '  Lukewarmness  and  Enthusiasm.'  The 
latter  was  evidently  a  greater  sin  in  his  eyes  than  the  former ; 
and  but  for  the  new  enthusiasm,  the  old  lukewarmness  would 
probably  have  been  allowed  its  ancient  comfort  and  ease. 
The  appeal  addressed  to  it  was  not  very  arousing  ;  it  was 
dignified,  proper,  and  paternal,  after  the  ecclesiastical  fashion. 
To  cope  with  the  Methodists  was  more  stimulating,  and  the 
bishop  braced  himself  for  his  task  as  one  who  relished  it.  He 
opened  his  '  Caution '  with  a  definition  of  enthusiasm  :  '  A 
strong  persuasion  on  the  mind  of  persons  that  they  are  guided, 
in  an  extraordinary  manner,  by  immediate  impressions  and 
impulses  of  the  Spirit  of  God.  And  this  is  owing  chiefly  to 
the  want  of  distinguishing  aright  between  the  ordinary  and 
extraordinary  operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit.'  After  discussing 
the  subject  generally,  he  culled  from  such  parts  of  Whitefield's 
journal  as  were  then  published  illustrations  of  eight  dangerous 
phases  of  the  new  teaching. 

'  God  forbid,'  he  says,  '  that,  in  this  profane  and  degenerate  age,  every- 
thing that  has  an  appearance  of  piety  and  devotion  should  not  be  con- 
sidered in  the  most  favourable  light  that  it  is  capable  of.  But,  at  the  same 
time,  it  is  surely  very  proper  that  men  should  be  called  upon  for  some 
reasonable  evidences  of  a  Divine  commission  :  I.  When  they  tell  us  of 
extraordinary  communications  they  have  with  God,  and  more  than  ordinary 
assurances  of  a  special  Presence  with  them.  II.  When  they  talk  in  the 
language  of  those  who  have  a  special  and  immediate  mission  from  God. 
III.  When  they  profess  to  think  and  act  under  the  immediate  guidance 
of  a  Divine  inspiration.  IV.  When  they  speak  of  their  preaching  and 
expounding,  and  the  effects  of  them,  as  the  sole  work  of  a  Divine  power. 
V.  When  they  boast  of  sudden  and  surprising  effects  as  wrought  by  the 
Holy  Ghost,  in  consequence  of  their  preaching.     VI.  When  they  claim  the 


CONTROVERSY  WITH  BISHOP  GIBSON        109 

spirit  of  prophecy.  VII.  When  they  speak  of  themselves  in  the  language 
and  under  the  character  of  Apostles  of  Christ,  and  even  of  Christ  Himself. 
VIII.  When  they  profess  to  plant  and  propagate  a  new  gospel,  as  unknown 
to  the  generality  of  ministers  and  people  in  a  Christian  country.' 

'The  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield's  answer,'  which  appeared  only 
twelve  days  after  the  '  Pastoral  Letter,'  was  written  in  two 
or  three  days  in  the  midst  of  preaching  engagements.  It 
opens  with  some  remarks  on  the  first  part  of  the  letter,  which 
are  feeble  and  wide  of  the  mark,  and  would  have  been  better 
omitted.  He  is  strong  and  effective  on  his  own  ground,  and 
has  little  difficulty  in  defending  positions  which,  in  these  days 
of  subjective  religious  thought,  would  have  been  little  ques- 
tioned. He  rejects,  of  course,  the  idea  of  having  extraordinary 
operations  of  the  Spirit  in  the  working  of  miracles,  or  the 
speaking  with  tongues  ;  but  lays  claim  to  the  ordinary  gifts 
and  influences  which  still  continue.  He  contends  that  he  can 
know,  by  his  own  joy  and  peace  and  satisfaction  in  any 
particular  work,  whether  the  Holy  Ghost  is  with  him,  graciously 
and  effectually  moving  his  heart ;  that  a  general  influence 
or  operation  of  the  Spirit  must  imply  a  particular  operation  ; 
that  the  Holy  Ghost  may  direct  and  rule  our  hearts  in  the 
minutest  circumstance.  He  claims  for  himself  a  Divine  com- 
mission in  his  work,  and  forces  the  bishop  to  sit  upon  one 
of  two  horns  of  a  dilemma — deny  the  priest's  Divine  com- 
mission, and  thus  his  own  Divine  right  and  authority  as  bishop  ; 
or  contend  for  his  own  commission,  and  thus  admit  the 
validity  of  the  priest's,  who  is  ordained  by  his  hands.  The 
charge  of  boasting  that  he  spoke  of  his  preaching  and 
expounding  and  the  effects  of  them,  as  the  sole  work  of  a 
Divine  power,  he  rebuts  by  asking  whether  his  lordship  would 
have  the  preacher  ascribe  anything  to  himself?  The  fifth 
count  against  him  gets  an  animated  answer,  which  may  well 
make  any  preacher  of  truth  feel  serious :    '  Where,  my  lord, 


no  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

is  the  enthusiasm  of  such  a  pretension  ?  Has  your  lordship 
been  a  preacher  in  the  Church  of  England  for  so  many  years, 
and  have  you  never  seen  any  sudden  or  surprising  effects  con- 
sequent upon  your  lordship's  preaching  ?  Was  this  my  case, 
should  I  not  have  reason  to  doubt,  my  lord,  whether  I  had 
any  more  than  a  bare  human  commission  ? '  In  the  sixth 
count  the  bishop  had  laid  his  finger  on  a  very  weak  place  in 
Whitefield's  creed ;  nor  can  Whitefield  do  more  than  appeal 
to  his  own  sincere  persuasion  that  he  is  right.  He  had  gone 
so  far  astray  as  to  prophesy  (for  it  was  nothing  short  of  that) 
in  his  journal,  that  there  certainly  would  be  a  fulfilling  of  those 
things  which  God  by  His  Spirit  had  spoken  to  his  soul ;  that 
he  should  see  greater  things  than  these  ;  and  that  there  were 
many  promises  to  be  fulfilled  in  him,  many  souls  to  be  called, 
and  many  sufferings  to  be  endured  before  he  should  go  hence. 
In  his  answer  he  declares  that  God  has  in  part  fulfilled  his 
hopes  of  success  ;  that  his  enemies  are  fulfilling  his  expecta- 
tions of  sufferings  ;  and  that  some  passages  of  Scripture  are 
so  powerfully  impressed  upon  his  mind  that  he  really  believes 
God  will  fulfil  them  in  due  time.  Whitefield  himself  came 
to  see  that  he  was  mistaken  in  these  views ;  and  he  expunged 
most,  if  not  all,  the  obnoxious  passages  from  his  revised 
journal,  as  well  as  declared  his  mistake  frankly  and  fully.  He 
also  did  the  same  thing  with  the  grounds  of  the  seventh  count, 
which  were  a  thoughtless  use  of  Scriptural  language.  But  on 
the  question  of  the  last  charge,  which  related  principally  to  the 
doctrine  of  justification,  he  not  only  boldly  announced  Soli- 
fidianism,  but  adhered  to  it  to  the  last.  He  was  as  impatient 
as  Luther  of  any  mention  of  good  works  in  connection  with 
justification.  Works  ought  to  come  as  the  fruits  and  evidences 
of  justification  ;  but  were  not,  even  in  the  most  limited  sense, 
to  be  called  a  condition  of  it. 

A  host  of  pens  became  busy  upon  the  contested  points, 


AN  APPEAL  in 

some  taking    Whitefield's  side,   some    the  opposite.      Their 
effusions  add  nothing  to  our  knowledge. 

In  closing  the  journal  which  contains  an  account  of  his  first 
open-air  preaching,  Whitefield  made  a  tender  appeal  to  others 
who  might  be  constrained  to  do  as  he  had  done.     He  says : — 

'  I  cannot  but  shut  up  this  part  of  my  journal  with  a  word  or  two  ot 
exhortation  to  my  dear  fellow-labourers,  whosoever  they  are,  whom  God  shall 
stir  up  to  go  forth  into  the  highways  and  hedges,  into  the  lanes  and  streets, 
to  compel  poor  sinners  to  come  in.  Great  things  God  has  already  done. 
For  it  is  unknown  how  many  have  come  to  me  under  strong  convictions 
of  their  fallen  state,  desiring  to  be  awakened  to  a  sense  of  sin,  and  giving 
thanks  for  the  benefits  God  has  imparted  to  them  by  the  ministry  of  His 
word.  O  my  dear  brethren  !  have  compassion  on  our  dear  Lord's 
Church,  which  He  has  purchased  with  His  own  blood ;  and  let  them  not 
perish  for  lack  of  knowledge.  If  you  are  found  faithful  you  must  undergo 
persecution.  Oh,  arm  people  against  a  suffering  time  ;  remind  them  again 
and  again  that  our  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world,  and  that  it  does  not 
become  Christians  to  resist  the  powers  that  are  ordained  of  God,  but 
patiently  to  suffer  for  the  truth's  sake.  Oh,  let  us  strive  together  in 
our  prayers,  that  we  may  fight  the  good  fight  of  faith,  that  we  may  have 
that  wisdom  which  cometh  from  above,  and  that  we  may  never  suffer  for 
our  own  faults,  but  only  for  righteousness'  sake  :  then  will  the  spirit 
of  Christ  and  of  glory  rest  upon  our  souls,  and  being  made  perfect  by 
suffering  here,  we  shall  be  qualified  to  reign  eternally  with  Jesus  Christ 
hereafter.     Amen  !     Amen  ! ' 

That  appeal  is  as  much  needed  to-day  as  ever,  for  the  people 
must  be  sought,  if  they  are  to  be  found. 

Conscious  of  the  difficulty  of  passing  through  popularity  and 
applause  without  moral  injury — and  by  this  time  competing 
engravers  were  multiplying  his  portrait  as  fast  as  they  could, 
and  rival  publishers  were  contending  for  his  journals — anxious 
to  subdue  such  pride  and  selfishness  as  still  dwelt  in  him, 
longing  to  know  himself  better,  and  much  worn  down  with  the 
gigantic  labours  of  the  past  seven  months  and  a  half,  he  went 
on  board  the  Elizabeth,  saying,  '  Blessed  be  God  !  I  am  much 
rejoiced  at  retiring  from  the  world.' 


CHAPTER  VII 
August,  1739 — March,   1741 

THIRD    VOYAGE — ITINERATING     IN    AMERICA FOURTH     VOYAGE 

BREACH    WITH    WESLEY 

MY  family,'  as  Whitefield  called  the  eight  men,  one 
boy,  two  children,  and  his  friend  Mr.  William  Seward, 
who  accompanied  him,  had  characters  in  it  worth  a  passing 
notice — Periam,  the  methodical  madman,  whom  we  know ; 
Seward,  the  rich  layman  ;  and  Gladman,  a  sea  captain,  whom 
A\;hitefield  got  to  know  at  the  end  of  his  last  visit  to  Georgia. 
Seward  was  a  gentleman  of  Evesham,  thoroughly  inspired  with 
Methodist  enthusiasm,  who,  to  his  wife's  mortification,  became 
Whitefield's  companion  in  travel  to  help  the  good  work.  He 
was  a  Boswell  in  his  admiration  and  fussiness,  and  but  for  his 
early  death  would  have  preserved  many  interesting  facts  which 
are  now  lost.  Gladman  was  a  convert  who  followed  White- 
field  from  a  double  motive — love  to  the  man  and  love  to  his 
Master.  Distress  brought  him  under  Whitefield's  notice.  His 
ship  had  been  wrecked  on  a  sand-bank  near  the  Gulf  of 
Florida.  After  ten  days  spent  in  that  situation  by  him  and  his 
crew,  they  sighted  a  vessel,  and  hoisted  a  signal  of  distress, 
which  she  answered.  Gladman  and  part  of  his  men  pulled  to 
her  in  a  boat,  and  begged  a  passage  for  the  whole  number, 


LETTER-}  VRITING  1 1 3 

which  was  promised  them  ;  but,  as  soon  as  they  put  off  for  the 
sandbank  the  vessel  made  sail  and  left  them  Thirty  days 
more  were  spent  in  their  confinement ;  then  they  built  a  boat, 
into  which  he  and  five  others  stepped,  with  the  determination 
to  make  their  escape  or  perish ;  the  rest  were  fearful  of  such  a 
frail  craft  and  stayed  behind.  Boat  and  crew  came  safe  to 
Tybee  Island,  ten  miles  off  Savannah,  whither  Gladman  was 
brought,  and  where  Whitefield  invited  him  to  breakfast.  A 
deliverance  so  great  prepared  him  to  receive  the  kindly 
counsels  which  were  given  him  over  the  breakfast-table,  and  as 
host  and  guest  soon  afterwards  returned  to  England  in  the 
same  vessel,  Gladman  became,  through  further  instruction,  a 
Christian  of  deep  conviction  and  firm  faith.  Nothing  would 
satisfy  him  but  to  return  with  Whitefield  on  his  second  voyage 
to  Georgia. 

The  versatile  preacher,  who  was  well  gifted  with  ability  to 
become  all  things  to  all  men,  and  to  make  himself  contented 
in  all  places,  had  been  on  board  ship  but  two  days  when  he 
felt  almost  as  forgetful  of  what  he  had  passed  through  as  if  he 
had  never  been  out  in  the  world.  Present  duty  was  the  only 
thing  that  ever  pressed  hard  upon  him  ;  past  bitterness  he 
quickly  forgot ;  future  troubles  he  left  with  God.  He  lived  one 
,  day  at  a  time,  and  lived  it  thoroughly.  He  framed  refutations 
for  his  'family,'  instituted  public  prayer  morning  and  evening, 
.  took  to  letter-writing  and  the  reading  of  some  very  strongly 
flavoured  divinity ;  and  at  the  same  time  indulged  his  favourite 
gift  and  passion  of  exhorting  every  one  around  him  to  follow  his. 
Lord  and  Master.  In  this  last-mentioned  work  he  had  the 
occasional  help  of  a  Quaker,  to  whom  he  would  now  and 
again  lend  his  cabin.  The  only  grief  was  that  the  Quaker  was  | 
not  explicit  enough  upon  justification  by  faith  and  upon  the 
objective  work  of  the  Saviour. 

Letter-writing  was  a  great  pastime  of  the   Methodists,  yet 

9 


H4  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

none  of  them  have  written  any  letters  worth  preserving,  either 
for  their  literary  merit  or  their  theological  grasp.  All  that  was 
attempted  was  to  comfort  and  cheer  each  other  in  the  conflict 
with  earth  and  hell ;  and  hence  their  letters  abound  in  '  experi- 
ences.' Whitefield  wrote  sixty-five  letters — none  of  them  long, 
some  of  them  mere  notes — during  his  three  months'  voyage ; 
they  were  addressed  to  converts  who  wanted  encouragement, 
to  backsliders  who  wanted  reproof,  to  students  who  wanted 
cheering  in  their  espousal  of  the  cause  of  Christ,  to  ministers 
who  wanted  words  of  brotherly  love.  This  was  the  work  of  a 
man  of  only  twenty-four  years  of  age. 

'  Show  them,'  he  says  to  Howel  Harris  about  his  congregations,  '  show 
iliem  in  the  map  of  the  word  the  kingdoms  of  the  upper  world,  and  the 
transcendent  glories  of  them  ;  and  assure  them  that  all  shall  be  theirs  if  they 
believe  on  Jesus  Christ  with  their  whole  hearts.  Press  on  them  to  believe 
on  Him  immediately.  Intersperse  prayers  with  your  exhortations,  and 
thereby  call  down  fire  from  heaven,  even  the  fire  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 

"  To  soften,  sweeten,  and  refine, 
And  melt  them  into  love." 

lt  Speak  every  time,  my  dear  brother,  as  if  it  were  your  last ;  weep  out,  if 
possible,  every  argument,  and,  as  it  were,  compel  them  to  cry,  "  Behold, 
how  he  loveth  us  !  "  ' 

As  America  is  approached,  he  begins  to  show  that  great  things 
are  shaping  themselves  in  his  mind,  his  world-wide  work 
suggests  itself ;  and  with  his  usual  promptitude  he  writes  to  a 
friend  :  '  I  intend  resigning  the  parsonage  of  Savannah.  The 
orphan-house  I  can  take  care  of,  supposing  I  should  be  kept 
at  a  distance  ;  besides,  when  I  have  resigned  the  parish,  I  shall 
be  more  at  liberty  to  take  a  tour  round  America,  if  God  should 
ever  call  me  to  such  a  work.  However,  I  determine  nothing  : 
I  wait  on  the  Lord.' 

The  voyage  was  useful,  both  to  his  body  and  soul — to  his 
soul,  however,  in  a  very  distressing  way.     His  journal  from 


DEEP  EXPERIENCES  115 

August  to  November  is  almost  as  dismal  and  painful  as  the 
early  parts  of  Brainerd's.  '  Tears  were  his  meat  day  and 
night.'  One  extract  will  suffice  to  show  what  was  his  state  of 
mind  until  towards  the  end  of  the  voyage  : — 

'  I  underwent  inexpressible  agonies  of  soul  for  two  or  three  days  at  the 
remembrance  of  my  sins,  and  the  bitter  consequences  of  them.  Surely  my 
sorrows  were  so  great  that,  had  not  God  in  the  midst  of  them  comforted  my 
soul,  the  load  would  have  been  insupportable  !  All  the  while  I  was  assured 
God  had  forgiven  me  ;  but  I  could  not  forgive  myself  for  sinning 
against  so  much  light  and  love.  Surely  I  felt  something  of  that  which 
Adam  felt  when  turned  out  of  Paradise  ;  David,  when  he  was  convicted  of 
his  adultery  ;  and  Peter,  when  with  oaths  and  curses  he  had  thrice  denied 
his  Master.  I  then,  if  ever,  did  truly  smite  upon  my  ungrateful  breast  and 
cry,  God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !  I  ate  but  very  little,  and  went 
mourning  all  the  day  long.  At  length  my  Lord  looked  upon  me,  and  with 
that  look  broke  my  rocky  heart,  and  floods  of  contrite  tears  gushed  out 
before  my  whole  family,  and  indeed  I  wept  most  bitteiiy.  When  in  this 
condition  I  wondered  not  at  Peter's  running  so  slowly  to  the  sepulchre, 
when  loaded  with  the  sense  of  his  sin.  Alas  !  a  consideration  of  aggravated 
guilt  quite  took  off  my  chariot  wheels,  and  I  drove  so  exceeding  heavily, 
that  was  I  always  to  see  myself  such  a  sinner  as  I  am,  and  as  I  did  then, 
without  seeing  the  Saviour  of  sinners,  I  should  not  so  much  as  be  able  to 
look  up.     Lord,  what  is  man  ! ' 

The  old  Puritan  theology,  of  which  he  had  been  a  student 
from  the  time  of  his  conversion,  began,  during  this  voyage,  to 
affect  his  views  in  a  very  decided  way.  Until  this  time  the 
broad,  plain  statements  of  Scripture  had  sufficed  for  a  founda- 
tion for  his  teaching.  The  calls  to  repentance  and  faith,  the 
assurances  of  pardon  and  eternal  life  for  as  many  as  will  turn 
to  God,  the  commandments  binding  every  man  to  purity  of 
heart  and  life,  the  simple  declarations  of  the  unspeakable  joye 
wherewith  the  Saviour  has  loved  us,  and  His  power  and 
willingness  to  help  all  who  look  to  Him,  constituted  the 
message  he  had  delighted  to  proclaim,  and  which,  indeed,  in 
spite  of  the  views  he  was  presently  to  embrace,  he  proclaimed 
to  the  last.     He  had  been  a  primitive  Christian.     But  now  he 


1 1 6  GEORGE   J  VH1 TE FIELD 

must  have  a  system  of  theology ;  he  must  hold  with  the  free- 
grace  men,  or  with  the  predestinarians  ;  he  must  believe  in  free- 
will, or  deny  it ;  he  must  accept  the  dogma  of  imputed 
righteousness,  or  reject  it.  A  book  written  by  Jonathan  Warn, 
called  'The  Church  of  England- Man  turned  Dissenter,  and 
Arminianism  the  Backdoor  to  Popery,'  which  contained 
extracts  from  The  Preacher^  by  Dr.  Edwards,  of  Cambridge, 
'  strengthened  him  much.'  He  tells  Harris  that,  since  he  saw 
him,  God  has  been  pleased  to  enlighten  him  more  in  that 
comfortable  doctrine  of  election,  and  now  their  principles 
agree,  as  face  answers  to  face  in  the  water.  When  he  returns 
to  Wales  he  will  be  more  explicit  than  he  had  been  ;  '  for  God 
forbid,  my  dear  brother,  that  we  should  shun  to  declare  the 
whole  counsel  of  God.'  His  Calvinism  was  not  (as  it  never  is 
in  the  purest  hearts)  a  cold  system  of  divinity,  but  a  strong 
persuasion  that,  only  by  the  acceptance  of  such  dogmas  and  an 
earnest  proclamation  of  them,  could  the  glory  and  the  honour 
be  given  to  the  God  of  our  salvation.  Whitefield  was  won 
over  to  Puritanism  by  the  truth  which  has  been  the  salt  of  that 
system — man  must  in  no  sense  be  a  saviour  to  himself;  he 
may  watch  and  read  and  pray  ;  he  may  practise  good  works — 
the  more  the  better ;  he  may — nay,  he  must — seek  to  perfect 
holiness  in  the  fear  of  God,  for  every  consideration  of  gratitude 
and  love,  every  holy  and  tender  tie  which  binds  him  to  his 
Father  in  heaven,  demands  it ;  but  he  must  not  say  a  word 
about  these  being  conditions  for  the  reception  of  any  favour 
from  above.  All  is  retrospective,  all  is  of  God.  He  provided 
— as  the  phrase  is— a  Saviour ;  He  also  determined  who 
should  be  saved  by  the  Saviour.  He  gave  His  people  to  the 
Redeemer,  and  the  Redeemer  to  His  people,  in  a  covenant 
that  should  never  be  broken.  But  for  the  centering  of  every- 
thing in  God,  Whitefield  would  have  cared  nothing  for  his 
favourite  theories. 


PHIL  A  DELPHI  A  1 1 7 

While  he  was  plunging  into  Calvinism,  and  determining  to 
be  more  outspoken  on  the  five  points — happily  he  was  slow  at 
fulfilling  this  purpose — another  mind,  not  less  resolute,  not 
less  bold,  and  much  more  acute  than  his  own,  was  as  swiftly 
and  irrevocably  rushing  into  the  opposite  system  of  Arminian- 
ism.  A  separation  between  himself  and  Wesley  was  already 
inevitable  if  each  adhered,  as  he  was  sure  to  do,  to  his  own 
convictions.  That  determination  '  to  speak  out,  and  hide 
none  of  the  counsel  of  God,'  was  an  extension  of  a  crack- 
already  made  in  the  foundations  of  Methodism,  which  was 
to  grow  wider  and  longer  for  many  a  day  to  come,  though 
never  so  wide  that  divided  friends  could  not  shake  hands 
across  it. 

Thankful  for  his  voyage,  and  timid  about  facing  the  diffi- 
culties of  public  life  on  shore — the  responsibility  of  preaching 
to  large  congregations,  the  temptations  of  popularity,  and  the 
opposition  of  such  as  differed  from  him — yet  again  joyful  and 
fearless  because  he  knew  that  many  prayers  were  being  offered 
for  him,  he  landed  at  Lewis  Town,  about  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from  Philadelphia.  The  ship's  provisions  had 
run  out,  as  they  used  to  do  in  those  days,  and  the  kind 
thoughtfulness  of  WhitefieWs  English  friends,  who  had  sent 
a  good  stock  on  board  for  him  and  his  family,  saved  both  crew 
and  passengers  from  possible  starvation,  or  a  very  lean  dietary. 

Whitefield,  accompanied  by  his  friend  Seward,  had  a 
pleasant  ride  through  the  woods  to  the  Quaker  town,  Phila- 
delphia, which  then  numbered  probably  eleven  or  twelve 
thousand  inhabitants,  one  third  of  whom  were  Quakers  (half 
the  inhabitants  of  the  State  of  Pennsylvania  were  of  the  same 
faith).  It  was  a  long,  straggling  place,  the  houses  pleasantly 
built  in  the  midst  of  orchards ;  the  market-place  unpaved ;  the 
stocks,  the  pillory,  and  the  whipping-post  still  standing  The 
last-named  instrument  of  justice  was  in  active  operation,  two 


/[ 


nS  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

women  a  month  being  whipped  at  it.  Benjamin  Franklin  had 
his  printing-office  opposite  the  market-place,  and  within  sight 
of  the  whipping-post.  The  Pennsylvania  Gazette  was  rejoicing 
in  great  prosperity,  through  the  shrewdness  and  industry  of  its 
famous  proprietor  and  editor.  Poor  Richard's  Almanac  had 
but  a  few  years  before  given  its  wit  and  wisdom  to  the  good 
citizens  for  the  sum  of  fivepence,  and  now  some  are  willing  to 
give  twenty  dollars  for  a  single  number  of  it !  The  people 
were  quiet,  peace-loving,  tolerant,  and  not  so  intellectual  as  the 
Bostonians.  Vital  godliness  was  said  to  be  low  among  them. 
Their  desire  to  hear  the  great  Methodist  was  intense  ;  for  his 
immense  fame  had  reached  their  town  before  him. 

Whitefield's  first  duty  was  to  deliver  some  letters  committed 
to  his  charge,  and  then  to  go  on  board  the  Elizabeth,  which 
had  arrived  the  night  before  him,  to  see  his  family.  He  next 
paid  his  respects  to  the  proprietor  and  the  commissary,  who 
received  him  'very  civilly.'  The  day  following,  which  was 
Sunday,  he  preached  to  a  large  congregation,  and  took  part  in 
other  services.  The  churchwardens  treated  him  better  than 
their  brethren  in  England  had  done,  and  the  clergy  of  all 
denominations  showed  him  great  courtesy.  Feeling  was  so 
different  from  that  which  he  had  left  behind  him,  that  whereas 
in  England  the  only  proper  place  for  a  sermon  was  thought  to 
be  a  church,  in  Philadelphia  the  people  preferred  hearing  it 
elsewhere,  and  asked  him  to  gratify  their  taste,  which  he  was 
not  slow  to  do.  The  Quakers  were  very  friendly,  and  their 
fellowship  cheered  him  not  a  little  The  atmosphere  all 
around  was  peaceful,  and  balmy  with  brotherly  love.  Aged 
Mr.  Tennent,  who  had  an  academy  for  training  pious  youths 
for  the  ministry,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  city,  and  was 
himself  blessed  with  four  sons  of  Christian  reputation  and 
i  influence,  three  of  whom  were  ministers,  came  into  the  city  to 
speak  to  him.     The  week's  stay  which  lie  made  was  as  quiet 


J9EJVJA  MIN  FRA  NKLlN  t  i  9 

and  agreeable  as  any  he  ever  made  in  any  place.  All  places 
of  worship  were  open  to  him,  all  ministers  favourable  to  him  ; 
and  when  he  left  the  ordinary  religious  buildings  to  preach 
from  the  steps  of  the  court-house  to  congregations  no  building 
could  hold,  and  which  listened  in  solemn  silence  while  the 
prolonged  twilight  of  the  late  autumn  days  filled  the  sky,  he 
must  have  felt  an  unusual  joy  in  his  work.  Once  when  the 
night  was  far  advanced,  and  lights  were  shining  in  the  windows 
of  most  of  the  adjoining  houses,  he  felt  as  if  he  could  preach 
all  night ;  and  indeed  the  night  after,  which  was  Saturday,  the 
people,  not  feeling  the  pressure  of  a  coming  day's  work,  seemed 
so  unwilling  to  go  away  after  they  had  heard  an  hour's  sermon, 
that  he  began  to  pray  afresh,  and  afterwards  they  crowded  his 
house  to  join  in  psalms  and  family  prayer. 

Franklin  was  a  constant  and  delighted  hearer.  Calm  and 
self-controlled  under  most  circumstances,  his  temperament 
caught  fire  at  the  glowing  words  of  Whitefield ;  and  if  he  did 
not  become  a  convert  to  his  views,  he  became  an  attached  and 
lifelong  personal  friend.  It  seems  to  have  been  during  this 
visit  that  Whitefield  triumphed  so  signally  over  Poor  Richard's 
prudence.  The  story  is  well  known,  but  too  good  to  be 
omitted  here.  Whitefield  consulted  Franklin  about  the  orphan- 
house,  for  which  he  was  still  making  collections  wherever 
money  could  be  obtained.  Franklin  approved  the  scheme, 
but  urged  that  the  house  should  be  built  in  Philadelphia,  and 
not  in  a  settlement  which  was  thinly  populated,  where  material 
and  workmen  were  scarce,  and  which  was  not  so  prosperous  as 
it  had  been.  Whitefield  did  not  heed  this  counsel,  but  deter- 
mined to  follow  his  own  plan.  This  made  Franklin  decide 
not  to  subscribe. 

'  I  happened  soon  after,'  he  says,  '  to  attend  one  of  his  sermons,  in  the 
course  of  which  I  perceived  he  intended  to  finish  with  a  collection,  and  I 
silently  resolved  he  should*  get   nothing   from  me.     I  had  in  my  pocket  a 


1 26  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

handful  of  copper  money,  three  or  four  silver  dollars,  and  five  pistoles  in 
gold.  As  he  proceeded  I  hegan  to  soften,  and  concluded  to  give  the 
copper.  Another  stroke  of  his  oratory  made  me  ashamed  of  that,  and 
determined  me  to  give  the  silver  ;  and  he  finished  so  admirably,  that  I 
emptied  my  pocket  into  the  collector's  dish,  gold  and  all  !  At  this  sermon 
there  was  also  one  of  our  club  who,  being  of  my  sentiments  respecting  the 
building  in  Georgia,  and  suspecting  a  collection  might  be  intended,  had,  by 
precaution,  emptied  his  pockets  before  he  came  from  home.  Towards  the 
conclusion  of  the  discourse,  however,  he  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  give, 
and  applied  to  a  neighbour  who  stood  near  him  to  lend  him  some  money 
for  the  purpose.  The  request  was  made,  perhaps,  to  the  only  man  in  the 
company  who  had  the  firmness  not  to  be  affected  by  the  preacher.  His 
answer  was  :  "  At  any  other  time,  friend  Hopkinson,  I  would  lend  thee 
freely  ;  but  not  now,  for  thee  seems  to  me  to  be  out  of  thy  right  senses."  ' 


Anecdotes  seldom  bear  dates,  and  we  can  only  fit  some  of 
those  which  are  told  of  Whitefield  into  the  right  part  of  space, 
the  right  locality,  not  heeding  the  right  year  of  time.  Most 
probably  it  was  near  about  the  time  of  this  visit  that  the 
observant  Franklin  tried  to  find  out  how  far  the  preacher 
could  be  heard,  when  one  night  he  was  preaching  near 
Franklin's  shop.  He  says  :  '  I  had  the  curiosity  to  learn  how 
far  he  could  be  heard,  by  retiring  backward  down  the  street 
towards  the  river,  and  I  found  his  voice  distinct  till  I  came 
near  Front  Street,  when  some  noise  in  that  street  obscured  it. 
Imagining  then  a  semicircle,  of  which  my  distance  should  be 
the  radius,  and  that  it  was  filled  with  auditors,  to  each  of  whom 
I  allowed  two  square  feet,  I  computed  that  he  might  well  be 
heard  by  more  than  thirty  thousand.  This  reconciled  me  to 
the  newspaper  accounts  of  his  having  preached  to  twenty  five 
thousand  people  in  the  fields,  and  to  the  history  of  generals 
haranguing  whole  armies,  of  which  I  had  sometimes  doubted.' 

It  has  been  said  that  Whitefield's  visit  '  threw  a  horrid 
gloom '  over  the  town,  and  for  a  time  put  '  a  stop  to  the 
dancing  schools,  the  assemblies,  and  every  pleasant  thing.' 
But  if  the  innocent   town  was  so  oppressed  by  the  '  terror- 


FUTURE  PUNISHMENT  12 1 

exciting  preacher,'  it  showed  a  strange  pleasure  in  always 
making  him  its  welcome  guest,  and  hanging  upon  his  words. 
The  truth  is,  terror  was  not  the  power  he  wielded,  but  loving, 
urgent,  yearning  tenderness,  which  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  any  man's  perishing  in  his  sins.  Whatever  fault  may 
be  found  with  some  of  his  views — and  they  lie  exposed  on 
every  side,  unguarded  by  argument,  unmasked  by  sophistry — it 
never  can  be  honestly  charged  upon  him  that  he  pictured  the 
torments  of  the  great  condemnation  in  flashy  colours,  or  with 
morbid  pleasure ;  every  allusion  to  the  casting  out  was  filled 
with  a  spirit  which  testified  also  of  the  joy  of  welcome.  It  is 
not  meant  that  he  was  silent  on  the  awful  question  of  future 
punishment ;  for,  seeing  he  firmly  believed  in  it,  silence  would, 
in  his  case,  have  been  mental  reservation,  and  his  nature  was 
too  frank  and  too  transparent  to  keep  anything  back.  Know- 
ing the  terror  of  the  Lord,  he  persuaded  men.  All  his  beliefs 
had  power  over  him,  fashioning  his  character,  and  determining 
his  ministry ;  but  his  soul  lived  mostly  on  the  radiant  side  of 
,  his  creed,  and  from  his  visions  of  love,  and  peace,  and  joy,  he 
(  went  forth  to  tell  what  he  had  seen.  And  if  the  people  of 
i  Philadelphia  walked  under  a  cloud  while  Whitefield  enjoyed 
their  free  and  generous  hospitality,  it  was  a  cloud  which  '  burst 
in  blessings  on  their  head.'  That  silent  night,  when  the  houses 
all  around  the  preaching-stand  had  lights  in  their  windows, 
near  which  sat  or  stood  some  listener,  was  a  night  of  penitence 
for  one  lost  soul,  of  a  class  which  used  often  to  find  their 
way  to  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  but  which  too  seldom  come  now 
to  any  pastor.  Next  morning,  before  it  was  light,  she  came 
to  Whitefield's  house,  and  desired  to  join  in  prayer  ;  and  when 
devotions  were  over,  left  the  following  letter  with  him : — 

'  Oh,  what  shall  I  say  to  express  my  thanks  I  owe  to  my  good  God,  in 
and  from  you  through  Jesus  Christ  (for  the  good  work)  which  you  have  been 
the  instrument  of  beginning  in  my  soul ;  and  if  you  have  any  regard  to  a 


122  GEORGE   U'HITEFIELD 

poor,  miserable,  blind,  and  naked  wretch,  that's  not  only  dust  but  sin,  as  I 
am  confident  you  have,  you  will  in  no  wise  reject  my  humble  request, 
which  is  that  I,  even  I,  may  lay  hold  of  this  blessed  opportunity  of  for- 
saking all,  in  order  to  persevere  in  a  virtuous  course  of  life.' 

The  trembling,  hoping  penitent  had  not  long  been  gone  when 
the  '  terror-inspiring  '  man  was  approached  by  a  child  of  seven, 
who  came  to  request  him  to  take  her  to  Georgia,  as  she  had 
heard  that  he  was  willing  to  take  little  children  with  him  ! 

Three  months  before  his  arrival  at    Philadelphia,  a   letter 

had  come  from  Mr.  Noble,  of  New  York,  who  wrote  in  his  own 

name,  and  the  name  of  many  others,  inviting  him  to  that 

place ;  a  second   letter   came   immediately   after   his   arrival, 

repeating  the  request.     He  determined  to  go.     Friends  lent 

him  and  his  party  four  horses,  and  they  rode  on  through  the 

,  woods,  stopping   at  Burlington   and  Trent   Town,   at   which 

(  places  he  preached  with  great  freedom,  and  Brunswick,  where 

I  they  met   with    Gilbert   Tennent,  the  eccentric   Presbyterian 

j  minister  of  the  place,   who  imitated  the  rude  dress  of  the 

(  Baptist,   and   preached   with   terrible   power.       Nothing  that 

{  Whitefield   could   say   could  surpass   the   fiery  sarcasm   and 

I  thundering   denunciation   of  Tennent  ;    indeed,    Whitefield's 

sermons  must  have  been  like  refreshing  showers  after  a  prairie 

fire,  when  he  came  into  the  neighbourhood  of  Tennent's  labours. 

The   stern    preacher    had   delivered   his   soul   of    a    faithful 

message  in  the  spring  of  this   year  on    'The  Danger  of  an 

Unconverted    Ministry,'   and    had   printed  it   for  an  abiding 

testimony  among  the  people.     It  was  based  upon  the  pathetic 

words  of  the  Evangelist,  '  And  Jesus,  when  He  came  out,  saw 

much  people,  and  was  moved  with  compassion  toward  them, 

because   they  were  as  sheep  not  having  a  shepherd.'     This 

/  sermon  was  epoch-making,  for  it  determined  the  evangelical 

'   character  of  the  Presbyterian   ministry  in  America  from  that 

I    day  to  the  present. 


GILBERT  TENNENT  123 

Tennent  joined  Whiten  eld's  party,  and  rode  off  with  them  to 
New  York,  to  join  in  the  preaching  campaign,  the  journey 
being  shortened  by  each  traveller's  telling  the  rest  what  God 
had  done  for  his  soul.  Mr.  Noble  received  them  '  most 
affectionately,'  and  that  night  Tennent  preached  at  the 
meeting-house,  '  but  never  before,'  says  Whitefield,  '  heard  I 
such  a  searching  sermon.  He  went  to  the  bottom  indeed, 
and  did  not  daub  with  untempered  mortar.  He  convinced  me 
more  and  more  that  we  can  preach  the  gospel  of  Christ  no 
,  further  than  we  have  experienced  the  power  of  it  in  our  own 
(  heart.  Beingdeeplyconvictedof  sin,  and  driven  from  time  to  time 
I  off  his  false  bottoms  and  dependencies  by  God's  Holy  Spirit  at 
his  first  conversion,  he  has  learned  experimentally  to  dissect  the 
heart  of  the  natural  man.  Hypocrites  must  either  soon  be 
converted  or  enraged  at  his  preaching.  He  is  a  son  of 
thunder,  and  I  find  doth  not  fear  the  faces  of  men.' 

New  York  was  not  so  tolerant  as  Philadelphia.  The 
Commissary  denied  Whitefield  the  use  of  his  pulpit  before  it 
was  even  asked  for,  and  angrily  informed  him  that,  his 
assistance  was  not  wanted.  Whitefield  replied,  that  '  if  they 
preached  the  gospel  he  wished  them  good  luck  in  the  name  of 
the  Lord,  and  that,  as  the  church  had  been  denied  without 
being  asked  for,  he  should  preach  in  the  fields,  for  all  places 
were  alike  to  him.'  To  the  fields  he  went  that  afternoon,  and 
though  some  seemed  inclined  to  mock,  they  soon  grew  more 
serious.  An  attempt  to  get  the  town-hall  was  unsuccessful ; 
/  but  Pemberton,  the  Presbyterian  minister,  was  glad  to  have 
.  him  in  his  meeting-house,  which  was  crowded  night  after  night; 
and  some  who  had  been  profligate  learned  to  look  upon  their 
past  lives  with  shame.  That  Whitefield,  along  with  his  fine 
indignation  at  the  unfaithfulness  of  unworthy  men,  who  held 
the  sacred  office  of  pastor  and  teacher,  and  his  ardent  zeal  to 
save  all  men,  had  a  touch  of  censoriousness,  and  perhaps  per- 


124  GEORGE  WH1TEFIELD 

emptoriness,  this  latter  quality  growing  upon  him  as  he  got 
older,  while  the  former  declined,  cannot  be  denied  ;  but  his 
spirit  must  also  have  had  rare  reverence  for  age  and  goodness. 
He  was  no  young  upstart,  who,  thinking  himself  so  much  more 
competent  to  guide  the  people,  delighted  to  treat  old  men  and 
their  views  with  neglect ;  he  never  looks  more  dignified  and 
manly  than  when,  with  respect  in  his  manner  and  diffidence  in 
his  heart,  he  meets  some  aged  Samuel,  like  old  Mr.  Tennent,  or 
old  Mr.  Pemberton,  and  takes  his  place  as  a  listener  and 
learner.  After  leaving  New  York,  his  sensitive  mind,  which 
cherished  the  memory  of  the  least  kindness  with  fond  faithful- 
ness, became  uneasy  about  some  fancied  want  of  humility  in  the 
presence  of  Mr.  Pemberton,  and  he  sought  to  make  amends  in 
a  letter  which  must  have  touched  the  good  man's  heart  deeply. 
A  letter  written  to  his  mother,  when  he  reached  New  York, 
will  show  his  relation  to  the  old  home  circle,  and  how  con- 
stantly the  one  absorbing  topic  of  salvation  by  Christ  was  on 
his  pen  and  his  tongue  : — 

'  NEW  York,  November  16,  1739. 

'  Hon.  Mother, — Last  night  Gud  brought  me  hither  in  health  and 
safety.  I  must  not  omit  informing  you  of  it.  Here  is  likely  to  be  some 
opposition,  and  consequently  a  likelihood  that  some  good  will  be  done. 
New  friends  are  raised  up  every  day  whithersoever  we  go  ;  the  people  of 
Philadelphia  have  used  me  most  courteously,  and  many,  I  believe,  have  been 
pricked  to  the  heart.  God  willing  !  I  leave  this  place  next  Monday,  and 
in  about  a  fortnight  think  to  set  out  for  Virginia  by  land.  In  about  a 
twelvemonth  I  purpose  returning  to  England  ;  expect  then  to  have  the 
happiness  of  seeing  me  suffer  for  my  Master's  sake.  Oh  !  that  God  may 
enable  you  to  rejoice  in  it  !  If  you  have  the  spirit  of  Christ,  you  will 
rejoice ;  if  not,  you  will  be  sorrowful.  Oh  !  my  honoured  mother,  my  soul 
is  in  distress  for  you  ;  flee,  flee  I  beseech  you,  to  Jesus  Christ  by  faith.  Lay 
hold  on  Him,  and  do  not  let  Him  go.  God  hath  given  you  convictions. 
Arise,  and  never  rest  till  they  end  in  a  sound  conversion.  Dare  to  deny 
yourself.  My  honoured  mother,  I  beseech  you  by  the  mercies  of  God  in 
Christ  Jesus,  dare  to  take  up  your  cross  and  follow  Christ. 

'I  am,  honoured  mother,  your  ever  dutiful,  though  unworthy  son, 

'  George  Whitefieed.' 


A  LOG-COLLEGE  125 

The  return  of  the  party  from  New  York  was  a  preaching 
tour,  under  the  direction  of  Tennent,  who  in  due  time  brought 
them  to  Neshamini,  where  his  father  lived,  and  where  White- 
field  was  announced  to  preach.  It  may  serve  to  keep  alive  an 
interest  in  his  feelings  amidst  his  labours,  to  mention  that,  in 
the  early  part  of  the  service,  the  three  thousand  people  who 
were  assembled  to  hear  him  seemed  unaffected,  that  this  caused 
him  to  'wrestle'  much  for  them  in  himself,  and  that  at  night  he 
had  to  withdraw  for  a  while  from  the  conversation  of  the  circle 
of  holy  men,  to  recover  in  private  his  composure  and  joy. 
Then  they  talked  together  of  what  plans  would  be  the  best 
for  promoting  the  kingdom  of  our  Lord.  The  best  plan, 
however,  was  already  in  operation  in  that  log-house  which 
stood  hard  by,  old  Mr.  Tennent's  Academy,  'the  College,'  as  it 
was  contemptuously  called  by  such  as  thought  that  learning 
could  not  be  nursed  in  such  rude  quarters,  whatever  might 
become  of  any  piety  which  sought  its  shelter.  Seven  or  eight 
good  men  had  just  gone  forth  from  it  to  their  work  ;  more 
were  almost  ready  to  follow ;  and  a  foundation  was  being  laid 
for  the  instruction  of  many  others.  The  minister  whose  soul 
was  so  hot  about  the  '  Pharisee-teachers  '  who  knew  nothing  of 
the  new  birth,  had  here  a  work  which  thoroughly  commanded 
his  heart.  They  all  felt  sure  that  it  was  right.  Out  of  the 
log-house,  which  the  dauntless,  vehement,  sarcastic  Tennents 
built  in  faith,  rose  Princeton  College. 

His  wandering  life,  the  excitement  which  his  presence  always 
caused,  and  the  curiosity  of  all  to  see  and  hear  him,  were  sure 
to  bring  to  his  notice  some  of  the  oddest  phases  of  life,  and 
some  of  the  saddest  and  tenderest  too.  One  day  he  was  taken 
to  see  a  hermit,  who  had  lived  a  solitary  life  for  forty  years — 
a  hermit,  but  not  a  misanthrope.  The  old  man  talked  with 
much  feeling  of  his  inward  trials,  and  when  asked  by  White- 
field  whether  he  had  not  many  such  in  so  close  a  retirement, 


el 


126  GEO  AGE   WHITEFIELD 

he  answered  with  pathos  and  beauty  :  '  No  wonder  that  a  single 
tree  which  stands  alone  is  more  exposed  to  storms  than  one 
that  grows  among  others.'  He  rejoiced  to  hear  of  what  was 
being  done  in  England,  and  kissed  his  visitor  when  they  parted 
— the  old  man  to  continue  solitary,  the  young  man  to  live  and 
think  and  feel  with  the  eyes  of  thousands  on  him  daily.  A 
little  hitch  in  life  might  once  have  made  the  preacher  the 
hermit ;  for  had  not  he  also  shunned  human  society,  neglected 
all  ordinary  comforts,  and  wrestled  with  his  troubles  alone,  as 
the  single  tree  which  has  no  fellows  to  shelter  it  contends  with 
the  storm  ? 

The  next  day  a  German  came  to  him  as  he  was  passing 
along  the  street,  and  said :  '  Thou  didst  sow  some  good  seed 
yesterday  in  German  Town,  and  a  grain  of  it  fell  into  my 
daughter's  heart.  She  wants  to  speak  with  thee,  that  she  may 
know  what  she  must  do  to  keep  and  increase  it.'  The 
daughter,  who  was  standing  hard  by,  came  at  her  father's  call, 
and  both  stood  weeping  while  Whitefield  exhorted  to  watch- 
fulness and  prayer  and  closeness  of  fellowship  with  the 
Saviour.  Wonderful  gentleness  and  sympathy  must  have 
graced  him  whom  repentant  prodigals,  little  children,  and 
women  could  approach  without  fear,  and  whom  old  men  loved 
as  a  son. 

The  good  people  of  Philadelphia  showed  their  appreciation 
of  their  visitor,  not  only  by  crowding  to  his  services,  but  by 
sending  him  presents  for  his  family,  which  was  to  proceed  to 
Savannah  by  sea  while  he  went  by  land,  preaching  wherever  he 
could  get  a  congregation.  Franklin's  newspaper  for  November 
contained  the  intelligence  that — 

'  On  Thursday  last,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield  left  this  city,  and  was 
accompanied  to  Chester  by  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  horse,  and  preached 
there  to  about  seven  thousand  people.  On  Friday  he  preached  twice  at 
Willing's  Town  to  about  five  thousand  ;    on  Saturday,  at  Newcastle,  to 


PREACHING  IN  THE  RAIN  127 

about  two  thousand  five  hundred  ;  and  the  same  evening  at  Christiana 
Bridge,  to  about  three  thousand ;  on  Sunday,  at  White  Clay  Creek,  he 
preached  twice,  resting  about  half  an  hour  between  the  sermons,  to  about 
eight  thousand,  of  whom  about  three  thousand,  it  is  computed,  came  on 
horseback.  It  rained  most  of  the  time,  and  yet  they  stood  in  the  open 
air.' 

Meanwhile  his  interest  in  other  workers  was  not  abated. 
His  heart  was  in  England  with  the  Wesleys,  in  Wales  with 
Harris,  and  in  Scotland  with  the  Erskines.  A  correspondence 
with  the  Scotch  brothers  was  preparing  the  way  for  a  trip  over 
the  border  some  day.  He  writes  to  Ralph — Ralph  was  the 
gentle,  sensitive,  poetical  brother ;  Ebenezer,  the  bold,  fearless, 
dignified  one,  who  preached  the  truth  in  its   majesty — 

1  The  cordial  and  tender  love  which  I  bear  you  will  not  permit  me  to 
neglect  any  opportunity  of  sending  to  you.  I  bless  the  Lord  from  my 
soul  for  raising  you  and  several  other  burning  and  shining  lights,  to  appear 
for  Him  in  this  midnight  of  the  Church.  .  .  .  My  only  scruple  at  present 
is,  "  whether  you  approve  of  taking  the  sword  in  defence  of  your  religious 
rights?"  One  of  our  English  bishops,  I  remember,  when  I  was  with  him, 
called  you  Cameronians.  They,  I  think,  took  up  arms,  which  I  think  to  be 
contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  apostles.  Some  few  passages 
in  your  sermon  before  the  Presbytery,  I  thought,  were  a  little  suspicious  of 
favouring  that  principle.' 

Another  difficulty,  besides  the  question  of  appealing  to  arms 
to  decide  religious  belief,  stood  in  the  way  of  a  union  between 
the  English  priest  and  the  Scotch  Presbyters.  The  latter  held 
the  divinity  of  their  form  of  Church  government  and  the 
sacredness  of  their  ordination  in  so  exclusive  a  way  as  practi- 
cally to  excommunicate  a  minister  of  any  other  Church. 
Whitefield  refers  to  this  in  another  letter  to  the  same  friend. 
He  says — 

'  I  think  I  have  but  one  objection  against  your  proceedings — your 
insisting  only  on  Presbyterian  government,  exclusive  of  all  other  ways 
of  worshipping  God.     Will  not  this,  clear  sir,  necessarily  lead  you  (when- 


128  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

ever  you  get  the  upper  hand)  to  oppose  and  persecute  all  that  differ  from 

you  in  their  Church  government,  or  outward  way  of  worshipping  God  ? 

Our  dear  brother  and  fellow-labourer,  Mr.  Gilbert  Tennent,  thinks  this 

will  be  the  consequence,  and  said  he  would  write  to  you  about  it.     As  for 

I  my  own  part  (though  I  profess  myself  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England). 

/  I  am  of  a  catholic  spirit ;  and  if  I  see  a  man  who  loves  the  Lord  Jesus  in 

»/'  sincerity,  I  am  not  very  solicitous  to  what  outward  communion  he  belongs.' 


His  fears  about  opposition,  if  not  about  persecution,  proved 
only  too  true ;  he  himself  was  to  get  no  small  share  of  it. 
The  denominational  spirit  and  the  spirit  catholic  clashed  as 
soon  as  ever  they  met. 

To  get  again  upon  his  track  southwards.  Once  away  from 
White  Clay  Creek  and  William  Tennent's  hospitality,  he  had 
a  ride  through  forest,  swamp,  and  partially  cleared  country, 
seeing  and  sharing  in  the  life  of  the  sparse  population  which 
lay  scattered  along  his  route.  Gentlemen  were  as  glad  to 
show  kindness  to  travellers,  where  few  human  beings  were 
to  be  seen,  as  travellers  were  to  receive  it ;  and  thus  the 
private  house — generally  that  of  a  military  man — was  as  often 
the  resting-place  for  the  night  as  the  tavern.  But  taverns  were 
a  welcome  lodge,  though  noisy  guests  might  sleep  in  the  next 
room,  or  the  bed  be  made  in  the  kitchen  ;  for  sometimes  the 
way  was  dangerous  enough  to  gratify  anybody  with  a  Robinson 
Crusoe  nature — the  evening  wolves  would  come  out  and  howl 
like  a  kennel  of  hounds  round  the  travellers.  Odd  meetings 
with  people  who  had  some  connection  with  the  old  country, 
and  whose  talk  could  pleasantly  recall  the  past,  now  and 
again  happened.  The  congregations  were  like  everything 
else ;  now  a  handful  of  forty,  now  a  hundred  in  place  of  the 
usual  twenty,  now  the  family  whose  hospitality  was  being 
enjoyed,  and  now  a  stray  visitor  who  came  in  nobody  knew 
how,  and  in  every  case  the  Negroes  of  the  house  were  got 
together. 


IN  THE  FOREST  129 

The  account  of  crossing  the  Potomac  helps  one  to  realise 
the  condition  of  the  whole  land  through  which  they  were 
passing.  '  Potomac,'  Whitefield  says,  '  is  a  river  which  parts 
the  two  provinces,  Maryland  and  Virginia.  It  is  six  miles 
broad.  We  attempted  to  go  over  it ;  but,  after  we  had  rowed 
about  a  mile,  the  wind  blew  so  violently,  and  night  was  coming 
on  so  fast,  that  we  were  obliged  to  go  back  and  lie  at  the 
person's  house  who  kept  the  ferry,  where  they  brought  out 
such  things  as  they  had.'  Christmas  Day  was  spent  very 
pleasantly  at  Newborn  Town ;  public  worship  was  attended, 
the  sacrament  was  received,  a  congregation  was  gathered  to 
hear  the  word,  and  heard  it  with  tears ;  the  hostess  provided 
a  Christmas  dinner,  and  would  take  no  fare  from  the  traveller 
when  he  offered  it.  New  Year's  Day  was  spent  in  riding ;  and 
at  sunset  a  tavern  was  reached,  which  stood  just  within  South 
Carolina ;  but  another  kind  of  visitor  than  a  parson,  and 
especially  a  Methodist  parson,  would  have  been  more  welcome 
when  the  house  had  a  goodly  company  of  neighbours  who  had 
come  together  for  a  dance  !  Such  a  company,  however,  must 
have  a  word  of  exhortation,  and  he  gave  it  both  night  and 
morning.  The  morning  proved  as  delightful  as  the  night  was 
to  prove  disagreeable.  For  twenty  miles  the  travellers  rode 
along  the  shore  of  a  beautiful  bay,  as  level  as  a  terrace  walk, 
the  porpoises  that  were  enjoying  their  pastime  making  sport 
for  them  all  the  way.  Whitefield's  heart  rejoiced  to  hear 
shore  resounding  to  shore,  across  the  noble  expanse,  the  praise 
of  Him  who  hath  set  bounds  to  the  sea  that  it  cannot  pass. 
Then  they  rode  into  the  forest,  and  had  to  take  their  chance 
among  the  roads  and  by-roads.  As  night  came  on  the  moon 
was  too  beclouded  to  show  them  where  the  by-paths  led  from 
the  main  road,  and  thus  the  path  to  a  house  where  they 
purposed  seeking  lodgings  was  missed.  There  was  nothing 
for  it  but  to  push  on  till  some  resting-place  could  be  reached, 

10 


i3o  GEORGE   WHTTEFIELD 

and  they  had  not  gone  far  before  they  saw  a  light.  Two  of 
them  went  up  towards  it,  and  saw  a  hut  full  of  Negroes,  of 
whom  they  inquired  about  the  gentleman's  house  to  which 
they  had  been  directed.  The  Negroes  seemed  surprised,  and 
said  that  they  were  but  new-comers,  and  knew  no  such  man. 
This  made  one  of  the  more  timid  hearts  infer  that  these 
Negroes  might  be  some  of  a  company  which  had  made  an 
insurrection  in  the  province,  and  had  run  away  from  their 
masters.  All  the  rest  adopted  his  suspicion,  and  therefore 
thought  it  best  to  mend  their  pace.  Soon  another  great  fire 
was  seen  near  the  roadside,  and  the  travellers,  imagining  that 
there  was  a  second  nest  of  rebels,  made  a  circuit  into  the 
woods,  and  one  of  them  observed  Negroes  dancing  round  the 
fire.  The  moon  now  shone  out  clearly,  and  they  soon  found 
their  way  again  into  the  main  road,  along  which  they  rode  for 
twelve  miles,  expecting  at  every  step  to  come  upon  more  fires 
and  more  Negroes,  when  they  had  the  good  fortune  to  see  a 
large  plantation,  the  master  of  which  gave  them  lodging. 
'  Upon  our  relating  the  circumstances  of  our  travels,'  says 
Whitefield,  '  he  gave  us  satisfaction  about  the  Negroes, 
informed  us  whose  they  were,  and  upon  what  occasion  they 
were  in  those  places  in  which  we  found  them.'  Two  short 
days  more  and  a  morning  carried  him  safe  into  Charles  Town 
(abbreviations  in  names  had  not  begun  at  this  time,  and 
Charleston  was  still  called  by  its  full  name),  and  a  ride  of 
seven  hundred  and  fifty  miles  was  over. 

His  absence  from  Charles  Town  had  not  been  long,  but 
still  sufficiently  so  to  allow  of  changes.  He  himself  was 
changed  into  a  field-preacher  ;  and  in  consequence  of  this, 
Commissary  Garden,  who,  on  the  preceding  visit  to  America, 
had  promised  to  defend  him  with  life  and  fortune,  was  changed 
into  a  cold  friend  and  then  into  a  hot  enemy,  who  refused  the 
use  of  the  English  Church.     However,  there  were  the  Inde- 


AMONG    THE   ORPHANS  131 

pendent  meeting-house  and  the  French  Church,  where  'very 
polite  congregations  '  were  as  plainly  addressed  as  the  Kings- 
wood  colliers. 

The  rest  of  the  distance  to  Savannah  was  performed  by 
water,  in  an  open  canoe,  steered  and  rowed  by  five  Negro 
slaves.  '  The  poor  slaves,'  he  says,  '  were  very  civil,  diligent 
and  laborious.'  The  first  night  they  slept  on  the  water,  and 
the  second  on  the  shore,  with  a  large  fire  to  keep  away  wild 
beasts.  At  noon  on  the  second  day  they  reached  Savannah, 
and  had  a  joyful  meeting  with  the  family,  which  had  been 
there  three  weeks.  He  looks  more  like  a  settled  family  man 
during  the  three  months  after  his  arrival,  than  during  any 
other  part  of  his  life.  The  huge  congregations,  which  would 
not  allow  of  five  minutes'  leisure  with  him,  are  left  behind  ;  so 
too  is  the  anger  of  opponents.  The  poor  orphans  are  around 
him,  and  his  humane  heart  thinks  and  feels  for  them  with 
unwearied  tenderness,  as  if  they  were  the  lambs  of  his  own 
home.  He  busies  himself  about  them  daily,  and  watches  the 
progress  of  the  work  which  is  to  make  them  as  good  a  home 
as  they  can  have,  now  that  the  dear  old  places  are  silent  and 
lonely,  without  father  or  mother.  On  the  second  morning 
after  his  arrival  he  went  to  see  a  tract  of  land,  consisting  of 
five  hundred  acres,  which  Habersham,  whom  he  had  left 
schoolmaster  of  Savannah  when  he  returned  to  England,  had 
chosen  as  the  site  of  the  orphanage. 

'The  land,'  he  says,  'is  situated  on  the  northern  part  of  the  colony, 
about  ten  miles  off  Savannah,  and  has  various  kinds  of  soil  in  it  ;  a  part  of 
it  very  good.  Some  acres,  through  the  diligence  of  my  friends,  are  cleared. 
He  has  also  stocked  it  with  cattle  and  poultry.  He  has  begun  the  fence, 
and  built  a  hut  ;  all  which  will  greatly  forward  the  work.  I  choose  to  have 
it  so  far  off  the  town  because  the  children  will  then  be  more  free  from  bad 
examples,  and  can  more  conveniently  go  upon  their  lands  to  work ;  for  it 
is  my  design  to  have  each  of  the  children  taught  to  labour,  so  as  to  be 
qualified  to  get  their  own  living.     Lord,  do  Thou  teach  and  excite  them 


1 32  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

to  labour  also  for  that  meat  which  endureth  to  everlasting  life.  Thursday, 
January  24th.— Went  this  morning  and  took  possession  of  my  lot.  I  hope  it 
is  cast  in  a  fair  ground,  and  God,  in  answer  to  our  prayers,  will  show  that 
He  has  given  us  a  goodly  heritage.  I  called  it  Bethesda,  that  is,  the  house 
of  mercy  ;  for  I  hope  many  acts  of  mercy  will  be  shown  there,  and  that 
many  will  thereby  be  stirred  up  to  praise  the  Lord,  as  a  God  whose  mercy 
endureth  for  ever.  Tuesday,  January  29th.  — Took  in  three  German  orphans, 
the  most  pitiful  objects,  I  think,  that  I  ever  saw.  No  new  Negroes  could 
possibly  look  more  despicable,  or  require  more  pains  to  instruct  them. 
Was  all  the  money  I  have  collected  to  be  spent  in  freeing  these  three 
children  from  slavery,  it  would  be  well  laid  out.  I  have  also  in  my  house 
near  twenty  more,  who,  in  all  probability,  if  not  taken  in,  would  be  as 
ignorant  of  God  and  Christ,  comparatively  speaking,  as  the  Indians. 
Blessed  be  God,  they  begin  to  live  in  order.  Continue  this  and  all  other 
blessings  to  them,  for  Thy  infinite  mercy's  sake,  O  Lord,  my  strength  and 
my  Redeemer.  Wednesday,  January  30th. — Went  this  day  with  the 
carpenter  and  surveyor,  and  laid  out  the  ground  whereon  the  orphan- 
house  is  to  be  built.  It  is  to  be  sixty  feet  long  and  forty  wide ;  a  yard 
and  garden  before  and  behind.  The  foundation  is  to  be  brick,  and  is  to 
be  sunk  four  feet  within,  and  raised  three  feet  above,  the  ground.  The 
house  is  to  be  two  story  high  with  a  hip  roof;  the  first  ten,  the  second 
nine  feet  high.  In  all  there  will  be  nearly  twenty  commodious  rooms. 
Behind  are  to  be  two  small  houses,  the  one  for  an  infirmary,  the  other  for 
a  workhouse.  There  is  also  to  be  a  still-house  for  the  apothecary  ;  and  I 
trust  ere  my  return  to  England,  I  shall  see  the  children  and  family  quite 
settled  in  it.  I  find  it  will  be  an  expensive  work  ;  but  it  is  for  the  Lord 
Christ.  He  will  take  care  to  defray  all  charges.  The  money  that  will  be 
spent  on  this  occasion  will  keep  many  families  from  leaving  the  colony  ; 
there  are  near  thirty  working  at  the  plantation  already,  and  I  would  employ 
as  many  more  if  they  were  to  be  had.  Whatsoever  is  done  for  God  ought  to 
be  done  speedily,  as  well  as  with  all  our  might.  Monday,  February  4. 
Met,  according  to  appointment,  with  all  the  magistrates,  and  the  former 
trustee  of  the  orphans,  who  heard  the  recorder  read  over  the  grant  given 
me  by  the  Trustees,  and  took  a  minute  of  their  approbation  of  the  same. 
Lord,  grant  that  I  and  my  friends  may  carefully  watch  over  every  soul 
that  is  or  shall  be  committed  to  our  charge  ! ' 


Whitefield  did  not  wait  until  the  orphanage  was  ready 
before  beginning  his  philanthropic  work,  but  at  once  hired  a 
large  house,  and  took  in  all  the  orphans  he  could  find  in  the 
colony ;  and  that  he  might  get  all,  he  went  to  several  of  the 


THE  FOUNDATION-BRICK  133 

settlements  and  brought  them  home  himself.  He  says  that 
'  a  great  many  also  of  the  town's  children  came  to  school 
gratis  ;  and  many  poor  people  who  could  not  maintain  their 
children,  upon  application  had  leave  given  them  to  send  their 
little  ones  for  a  month  or  two,  or  more,  as  they  could  spare 
them,  till  at  length  my  family  consisted  of  between  sixty  and 
seventy.  Most  of  the  orphans  were  in  poor  case,  and  three  or 
four  almost  eaten  up  with  lice.  I  likewise  erected  an  infirmary, 
in  which  many  sick  people  were  cured  and  taken  care  of  gratis. 
I  have  now  by  me'  (he  writes  this  six  years  afterwards)  'a  list 
of  upwards  of  a  hundred  and  thirty  persons  who  were  under 
the  surgeon's  hands,  exclusive  of  my  private  family.  This 
surgeon  I  furnished  with  all  proper  drugs  and  utensils,  which 
put  me  to  no  small  expense.' 

The  foundation-brick  of  the  'great  house,'  as  he  calls  the 
orphanage,  was  laid  by  himself  on  Tuesday,  March  25,  1740, 
without  any  parade— even  without  a  silver  trowel  or  a  mahogany 
mallet — but  with  full  assurance  of  faith.  The  workmen  were 
the  spectators,  and  knelt  down  with  him  to  offer  the  dedication 
prayer.  They  sang  a  hymn  together,  and  he  gave  them  a 
word  of  exhortation,  bidding  them  remember  to  work  heartily, 
knowing  that  they  worked  for  God.  Forty  children  were  then 
under  his  care,  and  nearly  a  hundred  mouths  had  to  be  sup- 
plied with  food. 

But  all  was  not  at  rest.  His  very  friendships  were  to  cause 
him  his  greatest  troubles  ;  and  the  first  signs  of  them  appeared 
while  he  was  busy  among  his  family;  there  a  letter  and  a 
journal  from  John  Wesley  reached  him.  That  Whitefield  him- 
self had  been  anxious  about  the  respective  views  of  Calvin  and 
Arminius  has  been  told  already,  and  also  that  he  had  deter- 
mined to  speak  out  the  conclusions  he  had  come  to.  For 
once  he  was  behind  his  friend,  and  it  was  an  honourable  slow 
ness  to  contention.    Wesley,  while  at  Bristol,  had  been  accused 


(l 


134  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

in  a  letter,  apparently  anonymous,  of  not  preaching  the  gospel, 
because  he  did  not  preach  up  election.  This  led  him  to 
consult  the  lot  as  to  whether  he  should  preach  and  print  his 
sermon  on  free-grace,  and  the  lot  he  drew  said  '  preach  and 
print ' ;  and  accordingly  he  did  so  ;  but  at  Whitefield's  request, 
who  was  then  in  England,  he  desisted  from  publishing  so  long 
as  his  friend  remained  in  the  country. 

Soon  after  Whitefield  sailed  the  sermon  appeared.  Wesley 
also  adopted  into  his  creed  the  doctrine  of  perfection  ;  that  is, 
'  free,  full,  and  present  salvation  from  all  the  guilt,  all  the 
power,  and  all  the  in-being  of  sin.'  His  letter  to  Whitefield  at 
Savannah  was  upon  their  respective  doctrines  of  election  and 
perfection,  asking  him  to  give  up  the  former  and  embrace  the 
t  latter.  To  this  Whitefield  could  not  consent ;  he  answered 
him  : — 

'  I  could  now  send  a  particular  answer  to  your  last ;  but,  my  honoured 
friend  and  brother,  for  once  hearken  to  a  child,  who  is  willing  to  wash 
your  feet.  I  beseech  you  by  the  mercies  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  our  Lord, 
if  you  would  have  my  love  confirmed  toward  you,  write  no  more  tome 
about  misrepresentations  wherein  we  differ.  To  the  best  of  my  knowledge, 
at  present  no  sin  has  dominion  over  me,  yet  I  feel  the  strugglings  of  in- 
dwelling sin  day  by  day.  I  can  therefore  by  no  means  come  into  your 
interpretation  of  the  passage  mentioned  in  the  letter,  and  as  explained  in 
your  preface  to  Mr.  Halyburton.  The  doctrine  of  election,  and  the  final 
perseverance  of  those  who  are  in  Christ,  I  am  ten  thousand  times  more 
convinced  of,  if  possible,  than  when  I  saw  you  last.  You  think  otherwise  ; 
why,  then,  should  we  dispute,  when  there  is  no  probability  of  convincing? 
Will  it  not  in  ■  the  end  destroy  brotherly  love,  and  insensibly  take  from  us 
that  cordial  union  and  sweetness  of  soul  which,  I  pray  God,  may  always 
subsist  between  us  ?  How  glad  would  the  enemies  of  the  Lord  be  to  see 
us  divided  !  How  many  would  rejoice,  should  I  join  and  make  a  party 
against  you  !  And,  in  one  word,  how  would  the  cause  of  our  common 
Master  every  way  suffer  by  our  raising  disputes  about  particular  points  of 
doctrine  !  Honoured  sir,  let  us  offer  salvation  freely  to  all  by  the  blood  of 
Jesus ;  and  whatever  light  God  has  communicated  to  us,  let  us  freely  com- 
municate it  to  others.  I  have  lately  read  the  life  of  Luther,  and  think  it 
nowise  to  his  honour,  that   the   last  [tart  of  his  life   was  so  much  taken  up 


/ 


PLEADING  FOR    UNITY  135 

in  disputing  with  Zuinglius  and  others,  who  in  all  probability  equally  loved 
the  Lord  Jesus,  notwithstanding  they  might  differ  from  him  in  other  points. 
Let  this,  dear  sir,  be  a  caution  to  us  ;  I  hope  it  will  be  to  me  ;  for,  by  the 
blessing  of  God,  provoke  me  to  it  as  much  as  you  please,  I  do  not  think 
ever  to  enter  the  lists  of  controversy  with  you  on  the  points  wherein  we 
differ.  Only  I  pray  to  God,  that  the  more  you  judge  me,  the  more  I  may 
love  you,  and  learn  to  desire  no  one's  approbation  but  that  of  my  Lord  and 
Master  Jesus  Christ.' 

Unfortunately  he  did  not  abide  by  these  truly  Christian 
purposes,  neither  was  Wesley  so  forbearing  as  he  ought  to 
have  been. 

Whitefield's  kind  heart  was  busy  with  another  good  work 
while  he  was  gathering  the  orphans  to  his  house.  That 
month's  ride  through  Maryland,  Virginia,  and  Carolina  had 
brought  him  near  slavery  and  all  its  revolting  accessories ;  and 
he  was  pained  at  the  heart.  It  would  not  do  to  be  silent 
about  the  wrongs  of  such  as  had  no  helper ;  he  took  pen  in 
hand,  and  wrote  to  the  inhabitants  of  those  three  states, 
expostulating  with  them  on  their  cruel  treatment  of  their  slaves. 
But  Whitefield  was  absolutely  blind  to  the  wickedness  of 
slavery  as  slavery ;  it  was  only  the  brutal  conduct  of  some  of 
the  masters  that  appeared  wrong  to  him.  At  his  first  visit 
to  Georgia  he  expressed  his  persuasion  that  the  colony 
must  always  continue  feeble,  if  the  people  were  denied  the  use 
of  rum  and  slaves  ;  and  he  afterwards  dishonoured  himself  by 
becoming  a  slave-owner,  and  working  his  slaves  for  the  good 
of  the  orphanage.  There  is  little  or  nothing  to  be  said  in 
extenuation  of  his  conduct ;  for  though  it  was  a  popular  notion 
in  his  day,  that  slavery  was  permissible,  it  was  not  the  notion 
of  every  one  ;  and  he  might  have  come  to  a  better  understand- 
ing of  the  subject  had  he  pondered  it.  Among  his  Quaker 
and  Moravian  friends  there  were  some  who  could  have  led  him 
into  the  light,  had  he  spent  time  in  conferring  with  them  ;  but 
his  incessant  preaching  gave  him  no  opportunity  for  thinking 


136  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

and  forming  an  independent  conclusion.  He  had  only  one 
thought,  and  cared  nothing  for  a  second,  because  the  first  was 
paramount.  It  might  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  preach, 
and  at  the  same  time  plead  for  the  freedom  of  the  Negroes ; 
but  at  least  he  might  have  kept  his  own  hands  clean,  and  have 
given  a  practical  rebuke  to  his  neighbours'  sins.  One  sentence 
in  his  letter  shows  that  his  mind  might  have  arrived  at  a  just 
conclusion  but  for  the  hurry  which  called  him  away  to  other 
things  :  '  Whether  it  be  lawful  for  Christians  to  buy  slaves,  and 
thereby  encourage  the  nations  from  whence  they  are  brought 
to  be  at  perpetual  war  with  each  other,  I  shall  not  take  upon 
me  to  determine.'  But  that  was  just  the  thing  he  was  bound 
to  determine ;  and  if  his  convictions  on  the  unlawfulness  of 
war  for  religious  ends  had  any  depth  in  them,  which  hardly 
appears  to  have  been  the  case,  he  must  have  concluded  that 
war  for  enslaving  men  who  were  of  the  same  flesh  as  their 
captors  and  buyers,  and  of  equal  value  in  the  sight  of  God, 
must  be  much  less  justifiable  than  religious  wars.  It  may  be 
safely  affirmed  that  the  lash  was  never  used  on  the  farm  where 
the  orphan-house  stood  ;  that  the  children  were  not  brutalised 
by  the  sight  of  cruelty  ;  and  that  the  Negroes  did  not  go  home 
weary  and  sore  to  grind  their  corn  for  the  evening  meal.  But 
slavery  is  still  slavery,  however  its  condition  is  mitigated. 

On  the  day  of  the  appearance  of  the  letter  to  the  slave- 
owners, Seward  chronicled  in  his  journal  a  story  which  well 
illustrates  the  quality  of  Negro  human  nature.  He  says  : 
'  Heard  of  a  drinking  club  that  had  a  Negro  boy  attending 
them,  who  used  to  mimic  people  for  their  diversion.  The 
gentlemen  bid  him  mimic  our  brother  Whitefield,  which  he 
was  very  unwilling  to  do  ;  but  they  insisting  upon  it  he  stood 
up,  and  said,  "  I  speak  the  truth  in  Christ,  I  lie  not ;  unless 
you  repent,  you  will  all  be  damned."  This  unexpected  speech 
broke  up  the  club,  which  has  not  met  since.' 


A   LOVE-LETTER  137 

Within  six  days  of  the  ceremony  at  Bethesda,  Whitefield  was 
called  northward  by  the  claims  of  the  orphans,  who  must  be 
maintained  ;  and  nothing  could  be  found  for  them  in  Georgia. 
He  sailed  in  his  sloop,  and  no  sooner  got  on  board  than  he 
devoted  his  time  to  the  writing  of  as  strange  and  loveless  a 
love-letter  as  ever  was  penned.  It  was  addressed  to  an  English 
lady  at  Blendon,  no  doubt  Miss  Elizabeth  Delamotte,  sister  of 
Mr.  Delamotte,  who  first  welcomed  him  to  Georgia,  and  was 
enclosed  in  one  addressed  to  her  parents,  in  which  they  are 
asked  whether  they  think  their  daughter  a  proper  person  to  be 
his  helpmeet  in  his  work,  i.e.,  be  the  matron  of  his  orphanage. 
He  declared  that  his  heart  was  free  from  '  that  foolish  passion 

which  the  world  calls  Love.'     His  letter  to  Miss  E was  in 

the  same  strain  ;  he  makes  '  no  great  profession  '  to  her.  She, 
however,  did  not  care  to  be  wooed  for  a  housekeeper  instead 
of  a  wife ;  and  Whitefield  stood  a  rejected  suitor,  but  not  a 
disappointed  lover,  for  he  subsequently  learned  that  at  the 
time  of  his  offer  the  lady  (in  spiritual  things)  was  in  a  'seeking 
state  '  only  ;  besides,  he  was  not  in  love. 

The  sloop  made  a  quick  passage  to  Newcastle,  from  whence 
Whitefield  hastened  his  journey  to  Philadelphia  by  way  of 
Willingtown.  The  truth  had  not  been  inactive  during  the 
absence  of  its  eloquent  preacher  ;  some  it  had  conquered, 
others  it  had  hardened  and  driven  into  open  hostility.  All 
around  Philadelphia,  as  well  as  in  the  city,  there  was  much 
religious  excitement;  and  many  ministers  who  had  been  of 
the  'Pharisee-teacher  class,'  had  become  earnest,  active 
labourers,  and  were  following  up  Whitefield's  work.  The 
minister  of  Abingdon  passed  through  a  very  great  trial  before 
he  entered  into  the  spiritual  peace  enjoyed  by  Whitefield  ;  and 
his  honesty  of  conduct  attests  his  sincerity  of  mind.  He  had 
been  for  some  years  a  preacher  of  the  doctrines  of  grace  with- 
out knowing  the  power  of  what  he  taught,  until   Whitefield 


138  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

came  and  preached  for  him.  After  Whitefield's  departure,  he 
attempted  to  preach,  but  failed.  Humbly  confessing  to  his 
congregation  the  deception  he  had  practised  on  himself  and 
them,  he  asked  those  of  them  who  could  pray  to  make  inter- 
cession for  him.  Still  anxious  and  unsettled,  he  again  resumed 
his  work ;  for  he  judged  that  in  the  way  of  duty  he  would  be 
most  likely  to  find  light  and  peace ;  nor  was  he  left  without 
the  blessing  he  so  earnestly  desired.  A  congregation  which 
had  a  pastor  in  such  a  state  of  mind  could  hardly  fail  to 
receive  Whitefield's  word  with  great  emotion;  'a  great  in- 
fluence was  observable '  among  them  when  he  spoke,  and 
'  the  word  came  with  a  soul-convicting  and  comforting  power 
to  many.' 

The  Commissary  of  Philadelphia  told  Whitefield  that  he 
could  lend  him  his  pulpit  no  more.  Thanking  God  that  the 
fields  were  open,  he  betook  himself  to  Society  Hill  next  day, 
and  preached  in  the  morning  to  six  thousand,  and  in  the  even- 
ing to  eight  thousand.  On  the  following  Sunday  morning,  at 
seven  o'clock,  ten  thousand  assembled  to  hear  him,  and  gave 
him  one  hundred  and  ten  pounds  for  his  orphans  ;  and  yet 
Philadelphia  itself  had  only  about  twelve  thousand  souls.  The 
same  day  he  went  morning  and  evening  to  church,  and  had 
the  comfort  of  being  treated  as  he  treated  others  who  did  not 
think  with  him.  The  minister  preached  upon  justification  by 
works,  and  did  his  best  to  damage  Whitefield's  favourite 
doctrine  of  justification  by  faith,  though  with  ill  success  ;  for 
many  hearers  who  had  entered  church  on  seeing  Whitefield  go 
in,  were  more  deeply  persuaded  than  ever  of  the  truth  of 
evangelical  doctrines.  Besides,  such  attacks  made  him  look 
like  a  persecuted  man,  and  gave  him  something  to  answer ; 
hence  it  was  no  wonder  that,  when  he  went  from  the  church 
to  preach  in  the  open  air,  fifteen  thousand  people  came 
together.     A  second  collection  of  eighty  pounds  showed  that 


THE    WORLD   GROWING  RELIGIOUS  139 

more  than  curiosity,  or  a  desire  to  hear  a  reply,  had  moved 
them  to  come. 

From  Franklin  to  tipplers  there  was  one  subject  of  conver- 
sation. The  tipplers,  Whitefield  says,  '  would  mutter  in 
coffee-houses,  give  a  curse,  drink  a  bowl  of  punch,  and  then 
cry  out  against  me  for  not  preaching  up  more  morality/ 
franklin  was  amazed  at  the  way  in  which  people  of  all 
denominations  went  to  hear  him  ;  he  speculated  on  the  extra- 
ordinary influence  of  Whitefield's  oratory  on  his  hearers,  and 
on  their  admiration  and  respect  for  him,  notwithstanding  they 
were  often  told  they  were  half  beasts  and  half  devils.  He 
wondered  to  see  the  change  soon  made  in  the  manners  of  the 
inhabitants — how,  from  being  thoughtless  or  indifferent  about 
religion,  it  seemed  as  if  all  the  world  were  growing  religious; 
so  that  no  one  could  walk  through  the  town  of  an  evening 
without  hearing  psalms  sung  in  different  families  of  every  street. 

The  indiscreet  zeal  of  Seward  might,  during  this  visit,  have 
cost  both  him  and  Whitefield,  whom  he  seems  to  have  fawned 
upon,  very  serious  consequences.  Excited  at  finding  that  a 
son  of  Penn  was  one  of  the  proprietors  of  the  assembly 
rooms,  he  obtained  the  key  of  the  rooms  from  the  keeper, 
under  a  promise  that  he  would  take  the  consequences,  and 
then  locked  the  door,  to  drive  out  all  the  people  to  hear 
Whitefield.  This  freak  cost  him  a  good  deal  of  abuse,  a 
threat  that  he  should  be  caned,  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
keeper's  family.  Another  of  his  follies  was  to  trumpet  White- 
field's  praises  in  the  newspapers  by  writing  both  advertisements 
and  paragraphs.  He  gave  his  own  colouring  in  the  New  York 
papers  to  his  exploit  with  the  assembly  rooms,  and  made  it 
appear  that  the  rooms  had  been  closed  by  some  one  in 
authority.     His  disingenuous  paragraph  was  as  follows  : — 

'  We  hear  from  Philadelphia  that,  since  Mr.  Whitefield's  preaching 
there,  the  dancing-school  and  concert-room  have  been  shut  up  as  incon- 


Mo  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

sistent  with  the  doctrines  of  the  gospel ;  at  which  some  gentlemen  were  so 
enraged  that  they  broke  open  the  door.  It  is  most  extraordinary  that  such 
devilish  diversions  should  be  supported  in  that  city,  and  by  some  of  that 
very  sect  whose  first  principles  are  an  utter  detestation  of  them,  as  appears 
from  William  Penn's  "No  Cross,  no  Crown,"  in  which  he  says,  "every 
step  in  a  dance  is  a  step  to  hell."  ' 

Circumstances  called  both  Gladman  and  Seward  away  from 
Whitefield's  side  before  New  York  was  reached ;  and  it  cannot 
be  regretted  that  the  latter,  much  as  Whitefield  was  attached 
to  him,  never  returned.1  They  were  despatched  to  England 
to  bring  over  some  one  to  take  charge  of  the  orphanage  in 
Whitefield's  absence,  to  acquaint  the  Trustees  of  Georgia  with 
the  state  of  the  colony,  to  procure  an  allowance  of  Negroes  — 
that  is,  slaves ;  also  a  free  title  to  the  lands,  an  independent 
magistracy,  and  money  for  building  the  church  at  Savannah. 
Seward  died  in  1741,  in  Wales,  as  the  result  of  a  blow  from  a 
rioter — a  martyr,  his  work  for  Whitefield  unfinished. 

Sick  and  weary,  Whitefield  preached  his  way  from  Phila- 
delphia to  New  York,  where  his  friend  Mr.  Noble  received  him. 
A  strong,  healthy  man  might  flatter  himself  that  he  had  achieved 
marvels,  could  he  say  that  he  had  done  as  much  as  White- 
field  did  there  under  weakness  of  body  and  much  loneliness  of 
heart.     The  services  were  early  and  late,  numerous,  sometimes 

1  Here  is  a  scene  in  Benjamin  Franklin's  shop,  occasioned  by  this  para- 
graph.    '  May  23,  1740. — Called  at  Mr.  Franklin's  the  printer's,  and  met 

Mr.  P and  several  other  gentlemen  of  the  Assembly,  who  accosted  me 

very  roughly  concerning  a  paragraph  I  had  put  in  the  papers,  alleging  it  to 
be  false.  They  much  insisted  that  my  paragraph  insinuated  as  if  the 
gentlemen  were  convicted  of  their  error  by  Mr.  Whitefield's  preaching, 
which  they  abhorred.  I  told  them  I  thought  no  one  would  construe  it  so  ; 
but  if  they  did,  it  was  an  honour  to  them,  for  that  I  myself  was  formerly  as 
fond  of  them  as  they  could  be,  but,  blessed  be  the  Lord,  that  1  was  con- 
vinced to  the  contrary,' — 'Journal  of  a  Voyage  from  Savannah  to  Philadel- 
phia, &c,  by  William  Seward,  Gent.,  companion  in  travel  with  the  Rev. 
Mr.  George  Whitefield,'  1740. 


FAINTING   CONGREGATIONS  141 

in  the  fields,  and  attended  by  crowds  which  few  speakers 
could  have  made  hear.  Brotherly  kindness  was  there  to 
cheer  him,  and  the  generosity  of  the  people,  who  gave  him 
three  hundred  pounds,  stirred  all  his  gratitude.  It  was  here, 
too,  that  he  received  the  first  of  those  childish  letters  from  his 
dear  orphans,  which  were  afterwards  to  reach  him  both  in 
England  and  America.  He  does  not  say  what  they  contained, 
but  only  that  in  a  packet  of  letters  from  Charles  Town  and 
Savannah  '  were  two  or  three  letters  from  my  little  orphans.' 

Still  feeble  and  low  in  spirits,  he  preached  his  way  back 
from  New  York  to  Philadelphia,  and  was  welcomed  to  the 
house  of  Anthony  Benezet,  the  friend  of  the  Negroes ;  but  to 
tell  how  he  preached  and  was  preached  against — how  he  com- 
forted the  sin-stricken  and  cared  for  the  Negroes,  who  came  in 
large  numbers  to  ask  for  his  counsel,  would  be  to  repeat  a  tale 
already  told.  A  new  feature,  however,  was  beginning  to 
manifest  itself  in  his  congregations,  though  it  was  not  very 
remarkable  until  he  reached  Nottingham,  where  the  Tennents 
and  other  men  of  a  similar  spirit  had  been  labouring  with 
much  success  for  some  time,  and  to  which  he  was  invited  in 
the  strongest  terms  by  some  of  the  inhabitants.  Thinly 
populated  as  the  place  was,  nearly  twelve  thousand  people 
were  assembled,  many  of  them  having  come  from  a  great 
distance  ;  indeed,  it  was  common  for  a  great  number  to  go  with 
him  as  far  from  their  homes  as  they  conveniently  could  ;  and 
on  the  morning  when  he  last  left  Philadelphia,  two  boats,  that 
plied  the  ferry  near  Derby,  were  employed  from  three  o'clock 
in  the  morning  until  ten  in  ferrying  passengers  across  who 
wanted  to  hear  him  as  often  as  possible.  He  had  not  spoken 
long  before  he  perceived  numbers  melting;  as  he  proceeded 
the  influence  increased,  till  at  last,  both  in  the  morning  and 
afternoon,  thousands  cried  out,  so  that  they  almost  drowned 
his  voice. 


142  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

Oh,  what  strong  crying  and  tears,'  he  says,  '  were  shed  and  poured 
forth  after  the  dear  Lord  Jesus  !  Some  fainted,  and  when  they  had  got  a 
little  strength,  would  hear  and  faint  again.  Others  cried  out  in  a  manner 
almost  as  if  they  were  in  the  sharpest  agonies  of  death.  And  after  I  had 
f  finished  my  last  discourse,  I  myself  was  so  overpowered  with  a  sense  of 
God's  love,  that  it  almost  took  away  my  life.  However,  at  length  I 
revived,  and  having  taken  a  little  meat,  was  strengthened  to  go  with 
-.  Messrs.  Blair,  Tennent,  and  some  other  friends,  to  Mr.  Blair's  house,  about 
twenty  miles  from  Nottingham.  In  the  way  we  refreshed  our  souls  by 
singing  psalms  and  hymns.  We  got  to  our  journey's  end  about  midnight, 
where,  after  we  had  taken  a  little  food,  and  recommended  ourselves  to 
God  by  prayer,  we  went  to  rest,  and  slept,  I  trust,  in  the  favour  as  well  as 
under  the  protection  of  our  dear  Lord  Jesus.  Oh,  Lord,  was  ever  love  like 
Thine?' 


The  next  day,  at  Fog's  Manor,  where  Blair  was  minister, 
the  congregation  was  as  large  as  that  at  Nottingham,  and  as 
great,  Whitefield  says,  '  if  not  a  greater,  commotion  was  in  the 
hearts  of  the  people.  Look  where  I  would,  most  were 
drowned  in  tears.  The  word  was  sharper  than  a  two-edged 
sword,  and  their  bitter  cries  and  groans  were  enough  to  pierce 
the  hardest  heart.  Oh  !  what  different  visages  were  there  to 
be  seen.  Some  were  struck  pale  as  death,  others  were 
wringing  their  hands,  others  lying  on  the  ground,  others 
sinking  into  the  arms  of  their  friends,  and  most  lifting  up 
their  eyes  towards  heaven,  and  crying  out  to  God  for  mercy  ! 
I  could  think  of  nothing,  when  I  looked  upon  them,  so  much 
as  the  great  day.  They  seemed  like  persons  awakened  by  the 
last  trump,  and  coming  out  of  their  graves  to  judgment.' 

His  affectionate  nature  was  beautifully  shown  in  the  many 
thoughtful  letters  and  messages  which  he  addressed  to  all  kinds 
of  friends  during  the  time  that  the  sloop  waited  at  Newcastle 
for  a  fair  wind  to  take  him  to  Savannah.  But  the  affection  he 
was  wont  to  inspire  was  strongest  in  the  hearts  of  the  orphans 
and  his  dependent  family,  and  on  his  return  to  Savannah  with 
the  five  hundred  pounds  that  he  had  collected    among  the 


A   REVIVAL  IN  THE   ORPHANAGE  143 

northern  Churches,  each  in  turn  hung  upon  his  neck,  kissed 
him,  and  wept  over  him  with  tears  of  joy. 
\  Next  day  the  house  was  a  miniature  Nottingham-Fog-Manor 
congregation.  The  excitement  began  with  a  man  who  had 
come  with  him  from  the  scenes  of  his  preaching  triumphs,  and 
who  became  much  stirred  up  to  pray  for  himself  and  others. 
Whitefield  also  went  and  prayed  for  half  an  hour  with  some  of 
the  women  of  the  house  and  three  girls,  who  seemed  to  be 
weary  with  the  weight  of  their  sins.  At  public  worship  young 
and  old  were  all  dissolved  in  tears.  After  service,  several  of  his 
parishioners,  all  his  family,  and  the  little  children,  returned 
home  crying  along  the  street,  and  some  could  not  refrain  from 
praying  aloud  as  they  went.  Weak  and  exhausted  he  lay  down 
for  a  little  rest,  but  the  condition  of  most  in  the  house  con- 
strained him  to  rise  again  and  pray ;  and  had  he  not  lifted  his 
voice  very  high,  the  groans  and  cries  of  the  children  would 
have  prevented  his  being  heard.  This  lasted  for  nearly  an 
hour,  and  the  concern  increasing  rather  than  abating,  he 
wisely  desired  them  to  retire.  They  did  so,  and  then  began 
to  pray  in  every  corner  of  the  house.  A  storm  of  thunder  and 
lightning  which  burst  over  the  town  at  this  time  added  to  the 
solemnity  of  the  night,  and  reminded  them  the  more  vividly  of 
the  coming  of  the  Son  of  man.  All  were  not  quiet  even  the 
next  day.  And  no  marvel,  when  we  consider  how  profoundly 
interested  every  one  had  been  in  the  result  of  Whitefield's  trip 
to  the  North.  His  success  was  their  home,  their  comfort, 
their  life ;  and  his  failure  their  return  to  want  and  misery.  His 
coming  opened  the  fountain  of  all  hearts,  and  natural  gratitude 
rose  quickly  into  higher  religious  emotions  under  his  influence, 
by  whom  God  had  wrought  penitence,  broken-heartedness, 
and  reformation  among  total  strangers,  among  rugged  sailors, 
and  among  opposers,  who  owed  him  nothing  till  they  owed 
him  themselves. 


144  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

His  return  to  Savannah  introduces  us  again  to  the  Wesley 
trouble.  His  last  day  on  board  the  sloop,  May  24,  T740,  was 
partly  spent  in  writing  to  friends  in  England,  John  Wesley 
anions?  the  number.     He  said  : — 


'  Honoured  sir,  I  cannot  entertain  prejudices  against  your  principles  and 
conduct  without  informing  you.  The  more  I  examine  the  writings  of  the 
most  experienced  men,  and  the  experiences  of  the  most  established 
Christians,  the  more  I  differ  from  your  notion  about  not  committing  sin, 
and  your  denying  the  doctrines  of  election  and  the  final  perseverance  of  the 
saints.  I  dread  coming  to  England,  unless  you  are  resolved  to  oppose  these 
truths  with  less  warmth  than  when  I  was  there  last.  I  dread  your  coming 
over  to  America,  because  the  work  of  God  is  carried  on  here,  and  that  in  a 
most  glorious  manner,  by  doctrines  quite  opposite  to  those  you  hold.  Here  are 
thousands  of  God's  children  who  will  not  be  persuaded  out  of  the  privileges 
purchased  for  them  by  the  blood  of  Jesus.  Here  are  many  worthy  ex- 
perienced ministers  who  would  oppose  your  principles  to  the  utmost.  God 
direct  me  what  to  do  !  Sometimes  I  think  it  best  to  stay  here,  where  we 
all  think  and  speak  the  same  thing :  the  work  goes  on  without  divisions, 
and  with  more  success,  because  all  employed  in  it  are  of  one  mind.  I 
write  not  this,  honoured  sir,  from  heat  of  spirit,  but  out  of  love.  At 
present  I  think  you  are  entirely  inconsistent  with  yourself,  and  therefore 
do  not  blame  me  if  I  do  not  approve  of  all  you  say.     God  Himself,  I  find, 

teaches  my  friends  the  doctrine  of  election.     Sister  H hath  lately  been 

convinced  of  it ;  and  if  I  mistake  not,  dear  and  honoured  Mr.  Wesley 
hereafter  will  be  convinced  also.  From  my  soul  I  wish  you  abundant 
success  in  the  name  of  the  Lord.  I  long  to  hear  of  your  being  made  a 
spiritual  father  to  thousands.  Perhaps  I  may  never  see  you  again  till  we 
meet  in  judgment ;  then,  if  not  before,  you  will  know  that  sovereign,  dis- 
tinguishing, irresistible  grace  brought  you  to  heaven.  Then  you  will  know 
God  loved  you  with  an  everlasting  love,  and  therefore  with  loving-kindness 
did  He  draw  you.  Honoured  sir,  farewell.  My  prayers  constantly  attend 
both  you  and  your  labours.  I  neglect  no  opportunity  of  writing.  My  next 
journal  will  acquaint  you  with  new  and  surprising  wonders.  The  Lord 
fills  me  both  in  body  and  soul.  I  am  supported  under  the  prospect  of 
present  and  future  trials  with  an  assurance  of  God's  loving  me  to  the  end, 
yea,  even  to  all  eternity.' 

The  brotherly  spirit  is  still  there,  but  in  a  more  decided 
attitude  towards  the  disputed  question  and  the  treatment  it 


TROUBLES    WITH   WESLEY  145 

-j  should  receive,  his  intercourse  with  the  northern  Presbyterians 
having  made  him  change  thus  much.  The  counsel  to  modera- 
tion and  to  avoid  teaching  doctrines  on  which  the  Methodist 
leaders  were  divided  was,  notwithstanding  his  resolution,  made 
during  his  last  voyage,  to  speak  out,  honourably  acted  upon  by 
himself.  He  wrote  to  a  friend  in  London,  beseeching  him  to 
'  desire  dear  brother  Wesley,  for  Christ's  sake,  to  avoid  dis- 

'  puting  with  him.  I  think  I  had  rather  die  than  to  see  a 
division  between  us  ;  and  yet,  how  can  we  walk  together  if  we 
oppose  each  other?'  In  another  letter,  which  was  written  on 
June  25th,  he  beseeches  Wesley,  for  Christ's  sake,  never,  if 
possible,  to  speak  against  election  in  his  sermons.  '  No  one,' 
he  says,  '  can  say  that  I  ever  mentioned  it  in  public  discourses, 
whatever  my  private  sentiments  may  be.  For  Christ's  sake 
let  us  not  be  divided  among  ourselves ;  nothing  will  so  much 
prevent  a  division  as  your  being  silent  on  this  head.'  Then  he 
runs  into  a  pleasanter  strain,  where  his  heart  was  most  at 
home :  '  I  should  have  rejoiced  at  the  sight  of  your  journal. 
I  long  to  sing  a  hymn  of  praise  for  what  God  has  done  for 
your  soul.  May  God  bless  you  more  and  more  every  day, 
and  cause  you  to  triumph  in  every  place.' 

Before  these  last  words  reached  Wesley,  he  replied,  in  a 
very  short  but  kindly  letter,  to  the  letter  of  May  24th  : — 

'The  case  is  quite  plain.  There  are  bigots  both  for  predestination  and 
against  it.  God  is  sending  a  message  to  those  on  either  side.  But  neither 
will  receive  it,  unless  from  one  of  their  own  opinion.  Therefore,  for  a 
time,  you  are  suffered  to  be  of  one  opinion,  and  I  of  another.  But  when 
His  time  is  come,  God  will  do  what  man  cannot,  namely,  make  us  both  of 
one  mind.  Then  persecution  will  flame  out,  and  it  will  be  seen  whether 
we  count  our  lives  dear  unto  ourselves,  so  that  we  may  finish  our  course 
with  joy.' 

We  look  in  vain,  however,  for  any  response  to  the  entreaty 
not  to  follow  a  public  course  of  hostility  to  his  old  friend. 

1 1 


I  p  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

The  fashionable  people  of  Charleston,    now    considerably 
changed  in  spirit  and  manner  by  the  preaching  of  Whitefield, 
were  anxious  again  to  hear  him  before  his  intended  visit  to 
New  England.     He  set  sail,  and  came  to  them  fresh  from  the 
excitement  of  Savannah,  where,  to  use  his  own  metaphor,  '  the 
stately  steps  of  our  glorious  Emmanuel  often  appeared.'    Com- 
missary Garden  having  denied  him  the  use  of  the  church,  he 
preached  in  the  meeting-house  of  his  friend  the  Independent 
minister,  and  for  this  alleged  irregularity  the  commissary  cited 
him  to  appear  before  him.     Whitefield  denied  the  authority, 
and  appealed  home.     To  preach  his  last  sermon  to  '  the  dear 
-people  of  Charleston '  he  went  from  his  bed,  and  was  carried 
to  the  chapel,  the  intense  heat  having  quite  exhausted  him. 
Many  of  the  rich  people  all  around  showed  him  great  respect 
and  hospitality ;  and  on  the  day  of  his  departure  from  Charles- 
ton he  rode  to  the  house  of  Colonel   Bee,  of  Ponpon,  forty 
miles  from  town,  which  was  reached  at  midnight.     The  next 
morning  he  was  too  weak  to  offer  family  prayer,  but  at  noon 
he  rode  a  mile  and  preached  under  a  great  tree  to  an  attentive 
auditory.     Weakness  hindered  either  a  second  sermon  or  any 
further  advance  that  day.     '  Surely,'  he  said,   '  it  cannot  be 
long  ere  this  earthly  tabernacle  will   be  dissolved.      As  the 
hart  panteth  after  the  water  brooks,  so  longeth  my  soul  after 
the  full  enjoyment  of  Thee,   my  God.'     The    next    day  he 
travelled  and  preached,  but  the  effort  almost  cost  him  his  life. 
Sometimes  he  hoped  that  God  would  set  his  imprisoned  soul 
/  at  liberty.     The  thoughts  of  his  Saviour's  love  to  him,  and 
i   that  the  Lord  was  his  righteousness,  melted  him  into  tears. 
A  dear  friend  and  companion  wept  over  him,  and  seemed  not 
unwilling  to  take  his  flight  with  him  into  'the  arms  of  the 
beloved  Jesus.'     The  poor  Negroes,  who  had  learnt  from  their 
master  that  the  sufferer  was  a  friend  of  their  race,  crowded 
around  the  windows,  expressing  by  their  looks  and  attentions 


WEAK  BUT    WILLING  147 

great  concern.  The  master  sat  by  and  wept.  '  But,  alas  ! ' 
says  Whitefield,  who  hoped  his  time  of  departure  was  come, 
'  alas  !  in  a  short  time  I  perceived  my  body  grow  stronger,  and 
I  was  enabled  to  walk  about.'  He  got  back  among  the 
beloved  orphans  in  a  very  prostrate  condition,  and  could 
hardly  bear  up  under  the  joy  and  satisfaction  which  he  felt. 
The  arrival  of  some  Charleston  friends  somewhat  revived  him, 
but  again  he  was  cast  down  by  weakness  of  body  and  concern 
of  mind;  and  one  night,  just  as  he  began  family  prayer,  he  was 
struck,  as  he  thought,  with  death.  A  few  broken  accents,  a 
soft  prayer — '  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit ' — fell  from  his 
lips.  Yet  he  was  still  appointed  to  life.  The  next  day  was 
Sunday,  and  feeble  indeed  must  he  have  been  to  give  up,  as 
he  did,  the  thought  of  officiating.  More  friends,  however, 
had  come  in,  and  when  he  solicited  a  Baptist  minister  who 
was  among  the  visitors  to  preach  for  him,  that  gentleman 
peremptorily  refused,  and  urged  (so  great  was  his  faith  for 
another  !)  that  God  would  strengthen  him  if  he  began.  And 
Whitefield  stood  rebuked.  The  willing  heart  mustered  the 
body's  broken  powers  for  another  effort,  and  hardly  had  his 
prayer  begun  when  one  of  the  visitors  dropped  '  as  if  shot  by 
a  gun.'  The  power  of  God's  word,  as  the  visitor  himself 
explained  his  conduct,  had  entered  his  heart.  He  soon  arose, 
and  sat  attentively  to  hear  the  sermon.  The  influence  quickly 
spread  abroad,  and  the  greatest  part  of  the  congregation  was 
under  deep  concern.  When  Whitefield  and  his  friends 
returned  home,  the  Baptist  minister  said  :  '  Did  I  not  tell  you 
God  would  strengthen  you  ? '  Whitefield  bowed  his  head, 
feeling  that  he  was  justly  reproved,  and  prayed,  when  he 
recorded  the  events  of  the  day  in  his  journal,  '  Dearest  Lord, 
for  Thy  mercies'  sake,  never  let  me  distrust  Thee  again. 
O  me  of  little  faith!" 

Pressing  invitations  to  visit  New  England  having  come  to 


i48  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

him  from  the  Rev.  Dr.  Colman  and  Mr.  Cooper,  ministers  in 
Boston,  and  feeling  desirous  to  see  the  descendants  of  the 
Puritans,  he  left  his  family  again,  and  sailed  first  to  Charleston 
and  thence  to  Rhode  Island,  several  Charleston  friends 
accompanying  him.  By  this  time  his  frame  had  recovered 
something  of  its  former  vigour,  through  the  cooler  weather 
and  the  fresh  sea  breezes,  yet  he  was  not  sanguine  of  recovery. 
He  wrote  to  Wesley — 

'  Last  night  I  had  the  pleasure  of  receiving  an  extract  of  your  journal. 
This  morning  I  took  a  walk  and  read  it.  I  pray  God  to  give  it  His 
blessing.  Many  things,  I  trust,  will  prove  beneficial,  especially  the 
account  of  yourself;  only  give  me  leave  with  all  humility  to  exhort  you 
not  to  be  strenuous  in  opposing  the  doctrines  of  election  and  final  per- 
severance, when,  by  your  own  confession,  "you  have  not  the  witness  of 
the  Spirit  within  yourself,"  and,  consequently,  are  not  a  proper  judge.     I 

remember  dear  brother  E told  me  one  day  that  "  he  was  convinced  ot 

the  perseverance  of  the  saints.  I  told  him  you  was  not.  He  replied,  but 
he  will  be  convinced  when  he  hath  got  the  Spirit  himself.  I  am  assured 
God  has  now  for  some  years  given  me  this  living  witness  in  my  soul. 
When  I  have  been  nearest  death,  my  evidences  have  been  the  clearest.  I 
can  say  I  have  been  on  the  borders  of  Canaan,  and  do  every  day — nay, 
k<  almost  every  moment — long  for  the  appearing  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ; 
not  to  evade  sufferings,  but  with  a  single  desire  to  see  His  blessed  face.  I 
feel  His  blessed  Spirit  daily  filling  my  soul  and  body,  as  plain  as  I  feel  the 
air  which  I  breathe,  or  the  food  I  eat.  ...  I  wish  I  knew  your  principles 
fully.  Did  you  write  oftener  and  more  frankly,  it  might  have  a  better 
effect  than  silence  and  reserve.' 

Whitefield  was  thoroughly  consistent  in  his  pleadings  for 
peace.  His  complaint  that  Wesley  was  silent  and  reserved 
came  from  his  deep  dislike  of  having  anything  hidden.  To 
* '  '  walk  with  naked  hearts  together '  was  his  conception  of 
brotherliness  and  friendship,  and  his  patience  was  taxed  by 
the  cooler  temperament  of  his  friend.  Longer  consideration 
might  have  led  him  to  believe  that  Wesley's  silence  was  a  sign 
of  unwillingness  to  dispute,  but  an  ardent  nature  like  his 
cannot   understand  such  profound  self-possession.     The  day 


FIRST   VISIT   TO  NEW  ENGLAND  149 

after  he  wrote  to  Wesley  he  wrote  to  a  friend  in  Bristol,  and 
said — 

'  I  hear  there  are  divisions  among  you.     Avoid  them  if  possible.     The 

1  doctrines  of  election  and  final  perseverance  I  hold  as  well  as  you.     But 

r  then  they  are  not  to   be  contended  for  with  heat  and  passion.     Such  a 

/   proceeding  will  only  prejudice  the  cause  you  would  defend.     Pray  show 

this  to  your  other  friends.     Exhort  them   to  avoid  all  clamour  and  evil 

speaking,  and  with  meekness  receive  the  engrafted  word,  which  is  able  to 

save  your  soul.' 

Rhode  Island  was  expecting  its  visitor.  He  reached  New- 
port just  after  the  beginning  of  Sunday  evening  service,  and 
sat  in  the  church  undiscovered,  as  he  thought ;  but  friendly 
eyes  had  marked  him,  and,  after  sermon,  a  gentleman  asked 
him  whether  his  name  was  not  Whitefield.  '  Yes,  it  was.' 
Then  the  unknown  friend  would  provide  lodgings  for  him  and 
his  party.  Soon  a  number  of  gentlemen,  chief  of  them  all  old 
Mr.  Clap,  an  aged  Dissenting  minister,  who  had  held  his 
charge  for  forty  years,  and  was  much  esteemed  for  his  good 
works,  came  to  pay  their  respects  to  him.  The  minister  of 
the  Church  of  England  consented  to  Whitefield's  preaching  in 
,  his  pulpit.  The  Assembly  one  day  adjourned  its  sitting  to 
attend  Divine  worship.  The  same  respect  was  shown  him  at 
Bristol ;  but  his  heart  was  cold  in  his  work,  and  others  seemed 
to  feel  little.  When  he  had  approached  within  four  miles  of 
Boston,  he  was  met  by  the  governor's  son,  several  other 
gentlemen,  and  two  ministers ;  the  brother-in-law  of  Dr. 
Colman  received  him  to  his  house ;  the  governor  of  Massa- 
chusetts, Jonathan  Belcher,  was  gratified  that  he  had  come, 
\  and  gave  him  his  special  friendship,  a  friendship  that  never 
wavered  ;  the  commissary  was  polite,  but  declined  to  give  him 
the  use  of  the  church.  A  famous  divine,  who  was  said  to  be 
prejudiced  against  him  and  also  his  enemy,  when  he  met  him 
in  the  street,  remarked  :  '  I  am  sorry  to  see  you  here.'     '  And 


i5o  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

so  is  the  devil,'  replied  Whitefield.  Once  again  were  the 
meeting-houses  and  the  fields  to  be  his  sanctuaries.  But 
before  we  mingle  with  the  crowds  which  thronged  them,  it 
will  be  necessary  to  pay  some  attention  to  several  packets  of 
letters  which  came  to  him  at  Boston  immediately  after  his 
arrival. 

The  friends  from  England  wrote  him  strange  things.  The 
Methodist  camp  was  distracted  with  the  cries  of  two  sections 
of  theologians,  holding  respectively  the  views  of  Wesley  and 
Whitefield.  To  have  his  favourite  doctrine  of  election  con- 
tested and  spoken  against  had  troubled  Whitefield ;  to  see  a 
new  doctrine,  that  of  perfection,  exalted  in  its  place,  ruffled 
him  still  more ;  and  the  news  which  came  to  Boston  made 
him  offer  his  first  word  of  expostulation.  To  Howel  Harris 
he  expressed  his  fears  for  his  place  in  the  affection  of  his 
English  converts.  '  Some  of  Fetter  Lane  Society,  I  fear,  are 
running  into  sad  errors ;  but  this  happens  for  our  trial, 
especially  mine.  Those  that  before,  I  suppose,  would  have 
plucked  out  their  eyes  for  me,  now,  I  suspect,  I  shall  see  very 
shy,  and  avoiding  me.  My  coming  to  England  will  try  my 
fidelity  to  my  Master.'  His  manner  to  Wesley  was  the 
impatience  of  an  unheeded  affection  : — 

'  Honoured  Sir,'  he  began,  '  this  is  sent  in  answer  to  your  letter  dated 
March  25th.  I  think  I  have  fur  some  time  known  what  it  is  to  have 
righteousness,  joy,  and  peace  in  the  Holy  Ghost.  These,  I  believe,  are 
the  privileges  of  the  sons  of  God ;  but  I  cannot  say  I  am  free  from 
indwelling  sin.  I  am  sorry,  honoured  sir,  to  hear  by  many  letters  that  you 
seem  to  own  a  sinless  perfection  in  this  life  attainable.  I  think  I  cannot 
answer  you  better  than  a  venerable  old  minister  in  these  parts  answered  a 
Quaker  :  "  Bring  me  a  man  that  hath  really  arrived  to  this,  and  I  will  pay 
his  expenses,  let  him  come  from  where  he  will."  I  know  not  what  you 
may  think  ;  I  do  not  expect  to  say  indwelling  sin  is  finished  and  destroyed 
in  me  till  I  bow  down  my  head  and  give  up  the  ghost.  Besides,  dear  sir, 
what  a  fond  conceit  it  is  to  cry  up  perfection,  and  yet  cry  down  the 
doctrine  of  final  perseverance  !     But  this  and  many  other  absurdities  you 


I' 


TROUBLES    WITH    WESLEY  151 

will  run  into,  because  you  will  not  own  election,  because  you  cannot  own 
it  without  believing  the  doctrine  of  reprobation.  What,  then,  is  there  in 
reprobation  so  horrid?  I  see  no  blasphemy  in  holding  that  doctrine,  if 
rightly  explained.  If_God  might  have  passed  by  all,  He  may  pass  by 
sorne^_  Judge_whether  it  is  not  a  greater  blasphemy  to  say,  "Christ  died  "i 
for  souls  now  in  hell."  Surely,  dear  sir,  you  do  not  believe  there  will  he 
a  general  gaol  delivery  of  damned  souls  hereafter?  Oh,  that  you  would 
stud)-  the  covenant  of  grace  !  Oh,  that  you  were  truly  convinced  of  sin 
and  brought  to  the  foot  of  sovereign  grace!  Elisha  Cole,  on  "God's 
Sovereignty,"  and  "Veritas  Redux,"  written  by  Dr.  Edwards,  are  well 
worth  your  reading.  But  I  have  done.  If  you  think  so  meanly  of 
Bunyan  and  the  Puritan  writers,  I  do  not  wonder  that  you  think  me  wrong. 
I  find  your  sermon  has  had  its  expected  success  ;  it  hath  set  the  nation  a 
disputing.  You  will  have  enough  to  do  now  to  answer  pamphlets  ;  two  I 
have  already  seen.  Oh,  that  you  would  be  more  cautious  in  casting  lots  ! 
Oh,  that  you  would  not  be  too  rash  and  precipitant  !  If  you  go  on  thus, 
honoured  sir,  how  can  I  concur  with  you  ?  It  is  impossible  ;  I  must  speak  " 
what  I  know.' 


That  '  great  blasphemy,'  if  blasphemy  it  be,  was  not  alto- 
gether avoided  by  Whitefield  himself,  who,  in  the  most 
impassioned  way,  would  call  upon  his  hearers  to  tell  him  how 
he  could  let  souls  perish  for  whom  Christ  died  ;  no  phrase 
recurs  with  greater  frequency  in  his  tenderest  passages. 
Neither  need  much  emphasis  be  laid  on  the  doctrine  of 
reprobation,  which  he  seemed  to  regard  with  unruffled  com- 
placency and  satisfaction.  It  was  only  in  his  letters  and  in 
his  talk,  and  that  only  for  a  brief  period,  that  it  got  such 
honourable  mention.  His  sermon  on  'The  Potter  and  the 
Clay,'  which  might  fairly  have  been  supposed  to  be  built  upon 
this  conception  of  election  and  reprobation,  rests  on  a  far 
different  foundation — the  old  foundation  of  all  theology. 
Every  son  of  man  is,  in  the  sight  of  God,  '  only  as  a  piece  of 
marred  clay ' ;  being  marred,  he  must  necessarily  be  renewed 
by  the  Holy  Ghost.  'A  short  word  of  application  '  winds  up 
the  whole  discourse. 

The  Boston  meeting-houses   were  filled   to  the    utmost  of 


r52  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

their  large  dimensions  by  the  congregations  which  crowded  to 
hear  the  famous  clergyman.  A  terrible  and  unaccountable 
panic  seized  one  of  the  congregations  as  it  was  awaiting  his 
appearance.  Some  threw  themselves  out  of  the  gallery,  others 
leaped  from  the  windows,  and  some  of  the  strong  trampled 
upon  the  weak.  When  he  came  it  was  a  scene  of  wild  con- 
fusion. His  invincible  presence  of  mind  did  not  forsake  him, 
and  he  announced  his  intention  to  preach  on  the  common. 
Many  thousands  followed  him  through  the  rain  into  the  field  ; 
but  there  were  five  dead  persons  left  behind  in  the  meeting- 
house, and  others  were  dangerously  wounded.  The  calamity, 
which  weighed  heavily  on  his  spirits,  in  nowise  damaged  his 
popularity,  because,  notwithstanding  the  lamentable  selfishness 
shown  by  some  of  the  people  in  the  meeting-house,  there  was 
a  real  desire  to  know  the  truth. 

Neighbouring  towns  were  not  forgotten.  One  of  his  excur- 
sions extended  over  one  hundred  and  seventy-eight  miles,  and 
had  sixteen  preachings,  yet  he  returned  to  Boston  without 
being  in  the  least  fatigued.  The  students  of  Cambridge  had 
several  visits  from  him,  and  his  language  to  them  was,  accord- 
ing to  his  after  confession,  made  in  the  most  public  manner 
both  from  the  pulpit  and  the  press,  both  harsh  and  uncharit- 
able. He  suffered  himself  to  be  guided  too  much  by  hearsay ; 
and  there  are  always  plenty  of  alarmists  who  can  find  nothing 
but  heresy  in  tutors  and  worldliness  in  students. 

One  of  his  greatest  pleasures  was  to  meet  with  the  many 
aged,  devout  ministers  who  were  in  Boston  and  its  neighbour- 
hood. There  was  old  Mr.  Clap,  of  Rhode  Island,  a  bachelor, 
who  gave  away  all  his  income  to  the  poor  and  needy,  and 
stood  the  friend  of  children,  servants,  and  slaves,  through  a 
ministry  of  forty  years.  There  was  also  old  Mr.  Walters,  of 
Roxburg,  whose  ministry,  with  that  of  his  predecessor,  Eliot, 
the  apostle  of  the  Indians,  had  lasted  in  the  Roxburg  congre- 


AGED  MINISTERS  153 

gation  one  hundred  and  six  years.  There  was  the  Rev.  Mr. 
Rogers,  of  Ipswich,  a  lineal  descendant  of  Rogers  the  martyr, 
who  lived  to  hear  three  of  his  sons  and  a  grandson  preach 
the  gospel  :  they  were  all  labouring  in  Whitefield's  day.  At 
York  was  one  Mr.  Moody,  a  worthy,  plain,  and  powerful 
minister  of  Jesus  Christ,  though  now  much  impaired  by 
old  age,  says  Whitefield.  Puritan  habits  still  obtained  in 
New  England.  Whitefield  relates  with  satisfaction  that  the 
'  Sabbath  in  New  England  begins  on  Saturday  evening,  and 
perhaps  is  better  kept  by  the  ministers  and  people  than  in 
any  other  place  in  the  known  (!)  world.' 

The  generosity  of  Boston  was  not  behind  that  of  any  place. 
At  Dr.  Sewall's  meeting-house  an  afternoon  congregation  gave 
five  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  to  the  orphanage ;  and  on  the 
same  day,  at  Dr.  Colman's  meeting-house,  a  second  afternoon 
congregation  gave  four  hundred  and  seventy  pounds.1  The 
immense  number  of  people  slowly,  and  as  if  unwilling  to  depart 
without  giving,  left  the  meeting-house.  The  minister  said  that 
it  was  the  pleasantest  time  he  had  ever  enjoyed  in  that  place 
throughout  the  whole  course  of  his  life.  There  must  have 
been   something  thoroughly  good  in  these  '  Lord  Brethren.' 

By  what  power  of  compression  Whitefield  contrived  to  get 
five  different  services  into  the  Sunday  when  he  had  those 
noble  collections  is  not  clear,  and  the  perplexity  is  increased 
on  finding  that  three  letters  bear  the  date  of  that  autumn  day. 
Well  might  his  animal  spirits  be  almost  exhausted,  and  his 
legs  be  almost  ready  to  sink  under  him  at  night.  One  of  the 
letters,  the  longest,  relieved  the  day  with  a  good-humoured 
piece  of  banter,  sent  to  a  brother  whose  weak  mind  had  been 
disturbed  by  Whitefield's  neatness  of  dress  ;  for  things  were 
very  different  from  the  Oxford  days,  when  he  neglected  him- 

1  The  currency  in  New  England  was  so  much  depreciated  at  this  time 
lliat  .£100  sterling  was  equal  to  ^'550  Massachusetts  currency. 


154  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

self  that  he  might  be  a  good  Christian.  Now  his  dress  and 
everything  about  him  was  kept  in  scrupulous  order.  Not  a 
paper  in  his  room  was  allowed  to  be  out  of  its  place,  or  put 
up  irregularly ;  every  chair  and  piece  of  furniture  was  properly 
arranged  when  he  and  his  friends  retired  for  the  night.  He 
thought  he  could  not  die  easy  if  he  had  an  impression  that  his 
gloves  were  mislaid. 

'  I  could  not  but  smile ' — he  wrote  to  his  friend — 'to  find  you  wink  at 
the  decency  of  my  dress.  Alas  !  my  brother,  I  have  known  long  since 
what  it  is  to  be  in  that  state  you  are,  in  my  opinion,  about  to  enter  into. 
I  myself  once  thought  that  Christianity  required  me  to  go  nasty.  I 
neglected  myself  as  much  as  you  would  have  me  for  above  a  twelvemonth  : 
but  when  God  gave  me  the  spirit  of  adoption,  I  then  dressed  decently,  as 
you  call  it,  out  of  principle  ;  and  I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  the  / 
Lord  would  have  me  act  in  that  respect  as  I  do.  But  I  am  almost  ashamed 
to  mention  any  such  thing.' 

The  second  letter  of  that  day's  date  informed  his  friend, 
that  so  many  persons  came  to  him  under  convictions  and  for 
advice,  that  he  scarce  had  time  to  eat  bread.  In  the  third 
letter  he  says  : — 

'  Dear  Brother  Wesley, — What  mean  you  by  disputing  in  all  your 
letters?  May  God  give  you  to  know  yourself,  and  then  you  will  not  plead 
for  absolute  perfection,  or  call  the  doctrine  of  election  a  "doctrine  of 
devils."  My  dear  brother,  take  heed  ;  see  you  are  in  Christ  anew  creature. 
Beware  of  a  false  peace ;  strive  to  enter  in  at  the  strait  gate,  and  give 
all  diligence  to  make  your  calling  and  election  sure.  Remember  you  are 
but  a  babe  in  Christ,  if  so  much.  Be  humble,  talk  little,  think  and  pray 
much.  Let  God  teach  you,  and  He  will  lead  you  into  all  truth.  I  love 
you  heartily.  I  pray  you  may  be  kept  from  error,  both  in  principle 
and  practice.  Salute  all  the  brethren.  If  you  must  dispute,  stay  till 
you  are  master  of  the  subject ;  otherwise  you  will  hurt  the  cause  that 
you  defend.' 

The  commotion  caused  in  Boston  by  his  presence  and 
preaching  was  not  diminished  by  a  report  which  was  very 
current  during  one  of  his  excursions,  that  he  had  died 
suddenly,    or   had    been  poisoned  ;  the    people   were  all   the 


JONATHAN  EDWARDS  155 

more  rejoiced  to  see  him  for  their  late  fear  that  they  had  lost 
him.  Everything  fanned  the  flame  of  zeal,  hoth  in  the  people 
and  in  the  preacher,  and  the  end  of  the  visit  was  more 
remarkable  than  the  beginning.  The  touching  words  of  a 
little  boy,  who  died  the  day  after  he  heard  Whitefield  preach, 
furnished  the  ground  of  one  of  Whitefield's  strongest  appeals 
to  old  and  young  ;  immediately  before  he  died  the  child  said  : 
'  I  shall  go  to  Mr.  Whitefield's  God.'  Old  people  bowed  their 
heads  in  grief,  not  in  anger,  when  the  preacher,  with  a  tender- 
ness that  desired  the  salvation  of  all,  said  :  '  Little  children,  if 
your  parents  will  not  come  to  Christ,  do  you  come,  and  go  to 
heaven  without  them.'  The  last  congregation,  which  con- 
sisted of  about  twenty  thousand,  assembled  on  the  common, 
and  the  myriad  faces,  thoughtful,  eager,  attentive,  the  great 
weeping,  and  the  darkening  shades  of  evening  which,  towards 
the  close  of  the  service,  was  coming  on  fast,  recalled  Black- 
heath  scenes  of  a  year  before.  His  labours  over,  Governor 
Belcher,  whose  attentions  had  been  most  kind  and  uninter- 
rupted, drove  him,  on  the  Monday  morning,  in  his  coach  to 
Charleston  Ferry,  handed  him  into  the  boat,  kissed  him,  and 
with  tears  bade  him  farewell.  Whitefield  returned  with  five 
hundred  pounds  for  his  orphans. 

Whitefield's  intention  on  leaving  Boston  was  to  proceed  to 
Northampton  to  see  Jonathan  Edwards,  whom  he  describes 
as  'a  solid  excellent  Christian,  but  at  present  weak  in  body.' 
A  great  revival  had  taken  place  in  Northampton  some  five  or 
six  years  before,  and  Whitefield's  ministrations  quickened 
afresh  all  the  feelings  of  that  memorable  season.  In  point  of 
fact  he  was,  through  all  his  travels  in  New  England,  largely 
entering  into  other  men's  labours,  and  he  frankly  and  gladly 
said  so.  Yet  the  two  great  men  did  not  come  very  close 
together.  Whitefield  did  not  make  a  confidential  friend  of 
Edwards,    and     Edwards     gave    Whitefield     very    necessary 


156  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

cautions  about  his  notions  on  impulses,  and  his  habit  of 
judging  others  to  be  unconverted.  They,  indeed,  loved  each 
other  as  servants  of  the  same  Lord,  and  rejoiced  in  each 
other's  work.  Edwards  might  be  seen  sitting  weeping  while 
his  visitor  preached. 

From  Northampton  he  passed  on  to  other  places.  At  New 
Haven  he  dined  with  the  rector  of  the  college,  Mr.  Clap. 
The  aged  governor  of  the  town  also  received  him  with  tears 
of  joy.  His  preaching  here  was  upon  the  subject  of  an 
unconverted  ministry,  and  he  did  not  altogether  avoid  his 
Cambridge  fault  of  censuring  too  hastily  and  too  severely. 
Riding  through  Milford,  Stratford,  Fairfield,  and  Newark,  at 
each  of  which  he  preached,  he  came  to  Stanford,  where  his 
words  smote  with  unusual  effect.  Many  ministers  hung  upon 
his  track,  and  at  Stanford  two  of  them  confessed,  with  much 
sorrow,  that  they  had  laid  hands  on  two  young  men  without 
asking  them  whether  they  were  born  again  of  God  or  not. 
An  old  minister,  who  could  not  declare  his  heart  publicly, 
called  Whitefield  and  his  friend  Mr.  Noble  out,  to  beg,  as  well 
as  his  choking  emotions  would  allow  him,  their  prayers  on 
his  behalf.  He  said  that  although  he  had  been  a  scholar, 
and  had  preached  the  doctrines  of  grace  a  long  time,  he 
believed  that  he  had  never  felt  the  power  of  them  in  his  own 
soul. 

At  this  point  Whitefield  set  up  his  '  Ebenezer '  and  gave 
God  thanks  for  sending  him  to  New  England,  of  which  he 
speaks  in  the  highest  terms.  It  was  well  settled  ;  large  towns 
were  planted  all  along  the  east  of  it ;  meeting-houses  abounded ; 
no  such  thing  as  a  pluralist  or  non-resident  minister  could  be 
found ;  the  colleges  had  trained  many  men  of  God  ;  God  was 
honoured  in  private  and  public  life  ;  and  the  Holy  Spirit  had 
often  been  poured  out  upon  churches  and  people. 

It  was  with  but  a  desponding  heart,  and  not  expecting  any 


DEPRESSION  AND  SUCCESS  157 

great  movings  of  soul  among  his  hearers,  that  he  rode  towards 
New  York.  His  companion,  Mr.  Noble,  tried  to  encourage 
him,  by  assuring  him  that  his  last  visit  had  done  good  to 
many,  and  bade  him  look  for  great  things  from  God.  The 
first  service  was  an  earnest  of  things  not  looked  for.  Pember- 
ton's  meeting-house  contained  an  anxious  congregation  on 
Friday  morning,  some  being  hardly  able  to  refrain  from  crying 
out ;  and  at  night  the  excitement  was  greater  still.  On  Sunday 
his  soul  was  down  in  the  depths  ;  before  going  to  evening 
service  he  could  only  cast  himself  on  the  ground  before  God, 
confessing  himself  to  be  a  miserable  sinner,  and  wondering 
that  Christ  would  be  gracious  to  such  a  wretch.  On  his  way 
to  the  meeting-house  he  became  weaker,  and  when  he  entered 
the  pulpit  he  would  rather  have  been  silent  than  have  spoken. 
The  preparation  for  his  work  was  such  as  only  devoutest  souls, 
who  feel  a  constant  need  for  the  comfort  and  aid  of  an 
invisible  Friend,  can  have ;  and  the  effect  of  the  sermon  was 
marvellous.  Scarcely  was  it  begun  before  the  whole  congre- 
gation was  alarmed.  Loud  weeping  and  crying  arose  from 
every  corner  of  the  building.  Many  were  so  overcome  with 
agitation  that  they  fell  into  the  arms  of  their  friends.  White- 
field  himself  was  so  carried  away,  that  he  spoke  until  he  could 
hardly  speak  any  longer. 

Larger  congregations  came  the  next  day,  and  the  feeling 
was  still  intense,  in  the  evening  he  bade  them  farewell,  and 
carrying  with  him  a  hundred  and  ten  pounds  as  their  gift  to 
his  orphanage,  passed  across  to  Staten  Island.  At  Newark 
the  scenes  of  New  York  were  renewed.  The  word  fell  like  a 
hammer  and  like  fire.  Looking  pale  and  sick  as  if  ready  to 
die,  one  cried  as  he  staggered  to  the  ground,  '  What  must  I  do 
to  be  saved  ?  '  Whitefield's  host  from  Charleston,  who 
seemed  to  be  accompanying  him  because  of  a  personal  affec- 
tion for  him,  and  not  because  of  thorough  religious  sympathy 


158  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

with  him,  was  struck  down  and  so  overpowered  that  his 
strength  quite  left  him  ;  it  was  with  difficulty  he  could  move  all 
the  night  after.  From  that  time  he  became  an  exemplary  Chris- 
tian, and  continued  such  to  the  last.  Whitefield  was  now 
thoroughly  spent,  and  could  only  throw  himself  upon  the  bed 
and  listen  to  his  friend  Tennent  while  he  recounted  a 
preaching  excursion  he  had  lately  made.  The  power  of  the 
Divine  Presence  passed  on  with  them  to  Baskinridge,  where 
weeping  penitents  and  rejoicing  believers  prayed  side  by  side. 
The  apathy  of  many  was  changed  into  deep  alarm,  and  the 
alarm  passed  into  exultant  joy. 

Whitefield  reached  Philadelphia  exactly  a  year  after  his 
first  visit  to  that  city.  The  season  of  the  year,  November, 
was  too  late  for  comfortable  open-air  services,  and  the 
Philadelphia  people,  having  once  suffered  from  inconvenience, 
had  made  provision  against  it  for  the  future.  Whitefield  had 
not  been  long  gone  when  they  determined  to  build  a  house 
which  should  be  at  the  disposal  of  any  preacher  who  had 
anything  to  say  to  them,  but  his  accommodation  was  their  first 
object.  Persons  were  appointed  to  receive  subscriptions ; 
land  was  bought ;  and  the  building,  which  was  one  hundred  feet 
long  and  seventy  broad,  begun.  When  Whitefield  returned, 
it  was  well  advanced,  though  the  roof  was  not  up.  The  floor 
was  boarded,  and  a  pulpit  raised,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction 
of  preaching  the  first  sermon  in  it.  It  afterwards  became,  by 
common  consent,  an  academy  as  well  as  a  preaching  place, 
and  is  now  the  Union  Methodist  Episcopal  Church. 

This  visit  was  similar  to  the  previous  one ;  only  a  success 
and  a  failure  were  noticeable.  The  failure  was  that  once  his 
congregation  did  not  cry.  The  success  was  with  Brockden, 
the  recorder,  a  man  of  more  than  threescore  years,  who  came 
under  the  power  of  Whitefield's  words.  In  his  youth  he  had 
had    some   religious    thoughts,    but    the    cares    of    business 


A    RECORDER   CONVERTED  159 

banished  them,  and  he  at  length  sunk  almost  into  atheism. 
His  avowed  belief,  however,  was  deism,  on  behalf  of  which 
he  was  a  very  zealous  advocate.  At  Whitefield's  first  visit  he 
did  not  so  much  as  care  to  see  what  his  oratory  was  like, 
and  at  the  second  visit  he  would  not  have  gone  to  hear  him 
but  for  the  persuasion  of  a  deistical  friend.  He  went  at  night 
when  Whitefield  was  preaching  from  the  court-house  steps, 
upon  the  conference  which  our  Lord  had  with  Nicodemus. 
Not  many  words  were  spoken  before  his  interest  was 
awakened  by  the  conviction  that  what  he  was  hearing  tended 
to  make  people  good.  He  returned  home,  reaching  it  before 
his  wife  or  any  of  his  family.  First  his  wife  entered,  and 
expressed  her  hearty  wish  that  he  had  heard  the  sermon  ;  but 
he  said  nothing.  Another  member  of  the  family  came  in,  and 
made  the  same  remark ;  still  he  said  nothing.  A  third 
returned,  and  repeated  the  remark  again.  '  Why,'  said  he, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  '  I  have  been  hearing  him.'  The  old 
man  continued  steadfast  in  the  truth,  and  was  privileged  to 
have  spiritual  joys  as  deep  as  his  teacher's. 

When  Whitefield  came  to  Savannah  and  learnt  that  his 
family  had  been  removed  to  their  permanent  home  at 
Bethesda,  he  went  thither.  The  great  house,  he  found,  would 
not  be  finished  for  two  months  longer,  in  consequence  of  the 
Spaniards  having  captured  a  schooner  laden  with  bricks 
intended  for  it,  and  with  provisions  intended  for  the  workmen 
and  children.  He  found  also  that  a  planter,  who  had  learned 
of  Christ  at  the  orphanage,  had  sent  the  family  rice  and  beef, 
and  that  the  Indians  had  often  brought  in  large  supplies  of 
venison  when  there  was  no  food  left.  The  work  of  religion, 
which  was  dearer  to  him  than  even  feeding  the  orphan, 
prospered  among  the  children,  among  the  labourers,  and  among 
the  people  round  about.  His  heart  was  contented  with  his 
work,  although  he  was  five  hundred  pounds  in  debt,  after  all  his 


160  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

exhausting  labours  and  the  generous  gifts  of  his  friends.  He 
now  appointed  Mr.  Barber  to  take  care  of  the  spiritual  affairs 
of  the  institution,  and  intrusted  to  James  Habersham  the 
charge  of  its  temporal  affairs.  The  institution  anticipated, 
in  its  cheerful  tone  and  wise  management,  those  well-ordered 
schools  which  in  later  times  have  brightened  childhood's  years 
in  thousands  of  instances.  Religion  was  the  great  concern ; 
but  due  weight  was  laid  upon  the  connection  between  its 
emotional  and  its  practical  parts.  Praying  might  not  exempt 
from  working  in  the  fields  or  at  some  trade,  and  spiritual 
delights  might  not  supersede  method  in  labour  and  humility 
of  heart.  The  orphans  often  sang  a  hymn  for  their  bene- 
factors ;  daily  they  sang  to  the  praise  of  their  Redeemer ; 
and  always  before  going  to  work  they  joined  in  a  hymn 
intended  to  teach  them  that  they  must  work  for  their  own 
living. 

Whitefield  had  carried  about  with  him,  and  shown  to  several 
New  England  ministers,  the  draft  of  a  letter  which  he  had 
written  in  reply  to  Wesley's  sermon  on  '  Free-Grace,'  and  on 
Christmas  Eve,  1740,  he  sat  down  at  the  orphan-house  to 
finish  the  letter,  and  send  it  to  his  friend.  The  sermon  was 
a  noble  specimen  of  eloquence ;  its  thrilling  denunciations  of 
Calvinistic  doctrines  almost  produce  the  persuasion  that  they 
are  as  horrible  and  blasphemous  as  Wesley  believed  them  to 
be.  The  headlong  zeal  of  the  preacher  allows  no  time, 
permits  no  disposition,  to  reason.  You  must  go  with  him  ;  you 
must  check  your  questions,  and  listen  to  him.  At  the  end 
it  seemsas  if  the  hated  doctrines  were  for  ever  consumed  in 
a  flame  of  argument  and  indignation.  The  letter  in  reply 
can  boast  no  such  qualities  ;  it  never  rises  above  the  level  of 
commonplace.  It  was  headed  by  a  short  preface  touching  the 
probable  effect  of  its  publication  and  expressing  the  persuasion 
that  the  advocates  of  universal  redemption  would  be  offended ; 


BREACH   WITH  WESLEY  161 

that  those  on  the  other  side  would  be  rejoiced ;  and  that  the 
lukewarm  on  both  sides — such  as  were  '  carried  away  with 
carnal  reasoning ' — would  wish  that  the  matter  had  never  been 
brought  under  debate.  The  second  were  very  properly,  but 
very  unavailingly,  asked  not  to  triumph,  nor  to  make  a  party ; 
and  the  first  not  to  be  too  much  concerned  or  offended.  One 
paragraph  was  sadly  illustrative  of  the  keenness  with  which 
men  who  have  enjoyed  each  other's  confidence  can  strike  at 
weaknesses. 

'I  know,'  Whitcfield  says,  'you  think  meanly  of  Abraham,  though  he 
was  eminently  called  the  friend  of  God  ;  and  I  believe,  also,  of  David,  the 
man  after  God's  own  heart.  No  wonder,  therefore,  that  in  the  letter  you 
sent  me  not  long  since,  you  sho..ld  tell  me,  "  that  no  Baptist  or  Presby- 
terian writer  whom  you  have  read  knew  anything  of  the  liberties  of  Christ." 
What  !  neither  Bunyan,  Henry,  Flavel,  Halyburton,  nor  any  of  the  New 
England  and  Scots  divines  ?  See,  dear  sir,  what  narrow-spiritedness  and 
want  of  charity  arise  from  your  principles,  and  then  do  not  cry  out  against 
election  on  account  of  its  being  "  destructive  of  meekness  and  love."  ' 

It  was  a  small  matter  what  Wesley  might  think  of  Abraham 
or  David,  but  Whitefield  should  have  abstained  from  alluding 
to  opinions  expressed  in  private.  The  last  part  of  the  letter 
was  a  wonderful  compound  of  sense,  love,  and  assumption. 

'  Dear,  dear  sir,  oh  be  not  offended  !  For  Christ's  sake  be  not  rash  ! 
Give  yourself  to  reading.  Study  the  covenant  of  grace.  Down  with  your 
carnal  reasoning.  Be  a  little  child,  and  then,  instead  of  pawning  your 
salvation,  as  you  have  done  in  the  late  hymn-book,  if  the  doctrine  of 
universal  redemption  be  not  true;  instead  of  talking  of  sinless  perfection, 
as  you  have  done  in  the  preface  to  that  hymn-book,  and  making  man's 
salvation  to  depend  on  his  own  free-will,  as  you  have  in  this  sermon, 
you   will   compose   a  hymn   in   praise   of  sovereign,  distinguishing  love. 

.  .  And  it  often  fills  me  with  pleasure  to  think  how  I  shall  behold 
you  casting  your  crown  down  at  the  feet  of  the  Lamb,  and  as  it  were 
filled  with  a  holy  blushing  for  opposing  the  Divine  sovereignty  in  the 
manner  you  have  done.  But  I  hope  the  Lord  will  show  you  this  before 
you  go  hence.     Oh,  how  do  I  long  for  that  day  ! ' 

12 


1 62  GEORGE   WHITE 'FIELD 

The  letter  made  a  shorter  passage  across  the  Atlantic  than 
its  writer  generally  did;  and  having,  in  some  unexplained 
way,  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  Calvinistic  party  in  London, 
was  instantly  printed,  and  used  for  their  ends  without  either 
Whitefield's  or  Wesley's  consent.  A  great  many  copies  were 
given  to  Wesley's  Foundry  congregation,  both  at  the  door, 
and  in  the  Foundry  itself.  '  Having  procured  one  of  them,' 
says  Wesley,  '  I  related  (after  preaching)  the  naked  fact  to  the 
congregation,  and  told  rvem,  I  will  do  just  what  I  believe 
Mr.  Whitefield  would,  were  he  here  himself.  Upon  which  I 
tore  it  in  pieces  before  them  all.  Every  one  who  had  received 
it  did  the  same ;  so  that,  in  two  minutes,  there  was  not  a  whole 
copy  left.    Oh!  poor  Ahithophel!    "Iln ;  omnis  effusus  labor /'" 

Apprehensive  of  some  difficulties  that  awaited  him  in 
England,  Whitefield  took  ship  at  Charleston,  along  with  some 
friends,  in  the  middle  of  January.  During  the  whole  voyage 
he  was  anxious  for  the  future.  One  day  he  was  yearning  for 
a  full  restoration  of  friendship  with  the  Wesleys  ;  the  next  he 
was  meditating  the  publication  of  his  answer  to  the  sermon 
on  '  Free-Grace,'  and  consoling  himself  with  the  thought  that 
it  was  written  in  much  love  and  meekness ;  a  third  day  he 
seemed  to  hear  the  Divine  voice  saying  to  him,  '  Fear  not, 
speak  out,  no  one  shall  set  upon  thee  to  hurt  thee ; '  another 
day  he  was  writing  to  Charles  Wesley  deploring  the  pending 
separation,  expostulating  with  him  and  John  as  if  they  could 
undo  the  past,  and  declaring  that  he  would  rather  stay  on  the 
sea  for  ever  than  come  to  England  to  oppose  him  and  his 
brother.  He  knew  not  what  to  do,  though  he  knew  perfectly 
well  what  he  wanted — the  old  friendship  to  be  what  it  had 
once  been,  and  every  dividing  thing,  whether  raised  by  him 
self  or  the  brothers,  done  utterly  away.  Nor  were  his  longings 
for  peace  stronger  than  those  of  Charles  Wesley.  It  is  painful 
to  observe  the  way  in  which  the  two  friends  strove,  with  un- 


BREACH   WITH   WESLEY  163 

availing  effort,  against  a  tide  which  they  felt  was  hurrying 
them  into  trouble  and  sorrow.  Four  months  before  Whitefield 
wrote  his  reply  to  the  sermon  on  '  Free-Grace,'  Charles,  just 
recovering  from  a  severe  illness,  sent  him  a  letter,  '  labouring 
for  peace,'  in  which  he  used  the  strongest  and  most  affectionate 
language ;  he  declared  that  he  would  rather  Whitefield  saw 
him  dead  at  his  feet  than  opposing  him  ;  that  his  soul  was 
set  upon  peace,  and  drawn  after  Whitefield  by  love  stronger 
than  death.  When  Whitefield  reached  England,  the  meeting 
between  them  was  most  touching.  '  It  would  have  melted 
any  heart,'  says  Whitefield,  '  to  have  heard  us  weeping,  after 
prayer,  that,  if  possible,  the  breach  might  be  prevented 
Soon  afterwards,  however,  he  submitted  his  letter,  which  1 . 
had  had  printed  before  leaving  America,  to  the  judgment  . 
his  friend,  who  returned  it  endorsed  with  these  words :  ^ 
up  thy  sword  into  its  place.'  But  not  so.  That  evil  fortune 
which  made  Wesley  preach  and  print  a  sermon  on  one  of  the 
profoundest  subjects,  under  the  provocation  of  an  anonymous 
letter,  and  at  the  dictation  of  a  lot  ;  which  prevailed  over 
Charles'  loving  letter,  and  tempted  Whitefield  to  pen  and 
print  his  reply,  still  hovered  near,  and  soon  triumphed  over 
the  counsel  of  love  and  wisdom  which  was  heeded  only  for 
awhile.  At  first  he  said  that  he  would  never  preach  against 
the  brothers,  whatever  his  private  opinion  might  be.  Then 
his  doctrines  seemed  to  him  to  be  too  important  to  be  held 
back ;  and  when  he  went  to  the  Foundry,  at  the  invitation  of 
Charles,  to  preach  there,  he  so  far  forgot  himself,  though 
Charles  was  sitting  by  him,  as  to  preach  them,  according  to 
the  testimony  of  John,  '  in  the  most  peremptory  and  offensive 
manner.'  When  John,  who  had  been  summoned  to  London, 
met  him,  he  was  so  far  from  listening  to  compromise  as  to 
say,  that  '  Wesley  and  he  preached  two  different  gospels,  and 
therefore  he  not  only  would  not  join  with  him,  or  give  him 


[64  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  but  would  publicly  preach  against 
him  wheresoever  he  preached  at  all.'  He  next  ungenerously 
accused  Wesley  of  having  mismanaged  things  at  Bristol,  and 
perverted  the  school  at  Kingswood  to  improper  uses,  foreign 
to  the  intention  with  which  it  had  been  undertaken.  It  was 
easy  for  the  accused  to  answer  all  that  was  alleged  against 
him  ;  but,  unfortunately,  he  took  occasion,  at  the  same  time,  to 
indulge  in  most  irritating  language  towards  Whitefield.  He 
assumed  an  air  of  superiority,  of  patronage  and  pity,  which 
would  have  ruffled  many  a  cooler  man  than  his  former  friend. 
It  was  more  taunting  than  kind  to  write :  '  How  easy  were  it 
for  me  to  hit  many  other  palpable  blots  in  that  which  you  call 
en  answer  to  my  sermon  !  And  how  above  measure  con- 
mptible  would  you  then  appear  to  all  impartial  men,  either 
E'^ense  or  learning !  But  I  spare  you  ;  mine  hand  shall  not 
be  upon  you ;  the  Lord  be  judge  between  me  and  thee  !  The 
general  tenor,  both  of  my  public  and  private  exhortations, 
when  I  touch  thereon  at  all,  as  even  my  enemies  know,  if  they 
would  testify,  is,  "  Spare  the  young  man,  even  Absalom,  for 
my  sake  !  " ' 

It  may  be  safely  affirmed  that  the  two  friends  would  not 
have  quarrelled  had  they  been  left  to  themselves.  They  were 
the  unwilling  heads  of  rival  parties  among  their  own  converts. 
'  Many,  I  know,'  said  Charles  Wesley  in  his  letter  to  White- 
field,  '  desire  nothing  so  much  as  to  see  George  Whitefield 
and  John  Wesley  at  the  head  of  different  parties,  as  is  plain 
from  their  truly  devilish  plans  to  effect  it ;  but,  be  assured, 
my  dearest  brother,  our  heart  is  as  your  heart.'  Whitefield, 
as  we  have  seen  from  his  American  letters,  received  embittering 
news  from  home ;  and  on  his  arrival  his  ear  was  assailed  by 
reports  from  brethren  who  were  already  openly  opposed  to 
Wesley  and  those  who  held  his  views.  True,  there  was  also 
the  anger  of  Wesley  on  account  of  Whitefield's  indefensible 


Breach  with  Wesley  165 

breach  of  confidence ;  and  that  and  the  meddling  of  partisans 
did  more  damage  than  the  doctrines  in  dispute.  The  matter 
may  be  summed  up  thus :  Wesley  was  wrong  in  the  beginning — 
1.  In  attacking  Whitefield's  views  at  the  taunt  of  an  anonymous 
enemy ;  he  struck  the  first  blow,  and  struck  it  without  suffi- 
cient cause.  2.  In  printing  and  publishing  his  sermon  because 
of  a  lot.  3.  In  using  irritating  language  to  his  opponent. 
Whitefield  was  wrong — i.  In  yielding  his  mind  to  the  influence 
of  inflaming  representations  sent  to  him  from  England,  and 
made  to  him  when  he  returned  home.  2.  In  exposing  private 
opinions  and  deeds.  3.  In  preaching  his  peculiar  views  in  the 
chapel  of  the  Wesleys. 

It  is  but  a  sad  task  to  record  these  things,  and  the  high 
character  of  the  chief  actors  makes  it  all  the  more  painful. 
Happily,  the  course  of  events  soon  took  a  different  direction  ; 
and  the  shadow  resting  upon  the  close  of  this  chapter  and  the 
opening  of  the  next  will  soon  be  seen  breaking  and  vanishing 
away. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
March,  1741 — August,  1744 

LOSS    OF    POPULARITY — FIRST    VISIT    TO    SCOTLAND — CONDUCT 
OF    THE    DISSENTERS 

ON  March  25,  1741,  Whitefield  wrote  to  Habersham  at 
the  Orphanage  a  dark  yet  hopeful  account  of  his  trials. 
The  divisions  among  the  Methodists  affected  his  congregations 
so  greatly  that  from  twenty  thousand  they  dwindled  down  to 
two  or  three  hundred,  and  he  was  a  thousand  pounds  in  debt 
for  the  orphans,  and  not  worth  twenty  pounds  of  his  own ;  he 
was  even  threatened  with  arrest  for  three  hundred  and  fifty 
pounds  drawn  for  in  favour  of  the  orphan-house  by  his  late 
'  dear  deceased  friend  and  fellow-traveller,  Mr.  Seward.'  His 
bookseller,  who  had  made  hundreds  by  him,  refused  to  print 
for  him.  Yet  his  faith  never  failed,  neither  did  his  charity. 
He  says:  'I  am  enabled  to  strengthen  myself  in  the  Lord  my 
God ; '  and  early  one  morning,  a  morning  that  succeeded 
earnest  prayer  on  the  night  before,  a  friend  came  to  inquire 
if  he  knew  where  a  lady  of  his  acquaintance  might  lend  three 
or  four  hundred  pounds.  Whitefield  replied  :  '  Let  her  lend 
it  to  me,  and  in  a  few  months,  God  willing,  she  shall  have  it 
again.'  All  the  circumstances  were  told  her,  and  she  cheer- 
fully put  the  money  into  his  hands. 

166 


CAST  OUT  167 

He  was  an  outcast  for  awhile.  Every  church  was  closed 
against  him  ;  the  Wesleys  could  not  have  him  in  their  pulpits, 
seeing  he  preached  against  them  by  name  ;  there  was  no  way 
of  gathering  a  congregation  but  by  taking  his  stand  in  the 
open  air  daily ;  and  he  determined  to  begin  on  the  old  battle- 
ground— Moorfields — on  Good  Friday.  Twice  a  day  he 
walked  from  Leadenhall  to  Moorfields,  and  preached  under 
one  of  the  trees.  His  own  converts  forsook  him ;  some  of 
them  would  not  deign  him  a  look  as  they  passed  by  ;  others 
put  their  fingers  into  their  ears,  either  to  preserve  them  from 
the  contamination  of  one  Calvinistic  word,  or  to  ward  off  the 
witchery  of  that  charming  voice  which  never  charmed  in  vain. 
Thus  he  held  on  his  way  amid  contempt  and  hatred,  not 
doubting  that  he  must  again  win  the  hearts  of  the  people  for 
his  Lord  and  Master.  He  called  Cennick  to  his  aid  from 
Kingswood,  and  '  a  few  free-grace  Dissenters '  stood  firmly  by 
him.  It  was  decided  by  them  to  build  a  large  wooden  shed 
for  the  congregations,  which  would  serve  until  he  should 
return  to  America ;  and  accordingly,  they  borrowed  a  piece  of 
ground  in  Moorfields,  and  set  a  carpenter  to  work  upon  the 
erection,  which,  by  the  name  of  the  Tabernacle,  was  opened 
and  filled  within  two  months  of  ^Vhitelield's  landing  in 
England.  Crowds  were  gathered  together  in  it  to  hear  early 
morning  lectures.  But  it  had  one  drawback  in  standing  so 
near  the  Foundry,  and  Whitefield  abhorred  the  appearance 
of  opposition  to  his  old  friends  the  Wesleys.  However,  a 
fresh  awakening  began  immediately  ;  the  congregations  grew 
rapidly ;  and  at  the  people's  request,  he  called  in  the  help  of 
a  number  of  laymen,  necessity  reconciling  him  to  the  idea. 
Here  again,  as  in  open-air  preaching,  he  was  the  forerunner 
of  Wesley. 

His  experience  at  Bristol,  to  which  he  paid  a  visit  before 
his  Tabernacle  in  London  was  erected,  was  similar  to  that  at 


1 68  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

London.  The  house  at  Kingswood  which  he  had  founded, 
for  which  he  had  preached  and  begged,  and  which  was  asso- 
ciated with  his  first  holy  works  among  the  colliers,  was  denied 
him.  Busybodies  on  both  sides  carried  tales  and  stirred  up 
strife.  He  listened  too  much  to  them,  and  a  breach  ensued. 
Still  there  was  something  stronger  in  the  hearts  of  these 
mistaken,  angry  Methodists  on  both  sides,  than  abhorrence  of 
their  respective  tenets  ;  for  Whitefield  gratefully  records  that, 
though  different  in  judgment,  they  were  one  in  affection  ;  that 
both  aimed  at  promoting  the  glory  of  their  common  Lord ;  and 
that  they  agreed  in  endeavouring  '  to  convert  souls  to  the  ever 
blessed  Mediator.'  As  for  Whitefield  himself,  no  part  of  his 
career  displays  his  completeness  of  devotion  to  the  Lord  Jesus 
more  perfectly  than  this,  in  which  he  took  the  ingratitude  of 
his  spiritual  children  with  sorrowful  meekness,  in  which  he 
welcomed  rebukes  as  a  'very  little  child,'  in  which  he  carried 
his  burden  of  debt  for  the  orphans  without  once  regretting  his 
responsibility,  in  which  he  found  time  to  intercede  with  one 
friend  to  write  to  his  '  dear  little  orphans,  both  boys  and  girls,' 
and  to  thank  another  for  his  kindness  to  them,  in  which  the 
peace  and  comfort  of  his  heart  through  the  gospel  never  failed 
him  for  an  hour.  All  his  healthfulness  of  soul  got  free  play 
when  once  the  storm  had  discharged  itself.  It  was  with 
profound  relief  that  he  wrote  to  his  friend  the  Independent 
minister  of  Charleston,  saying  that  he  thought  '  the  heat  of 
the  battle  was  pretty  well  over,'  and  that  the  Word  of  God 
was  running  and  being  glorified.  That  kind  hand  which  had 
supported  him  through  so  many  difficulties,  and  on  which  he 
leaned  like  a  little  child,  cleared  his  way  surprisingly.  One 
day,  when  he  found  himself  forsaken  and  almost  quite  penni- 
less, his  suspense  was  broken  by  a  stranger  coming  and  putting 
a  guinea  into  his  hand ;  then  something  seemed  to  say, 
'  Cannot  that   God,  who  sent  this  person   to  give  thee  this 


FIELD  PREACHING  HIS  PLAN  169 

guinea,  make  it  up  fifteen  hundred  ? '  And  the  inward  voice 
was  not  untrue ;  soon  he  was  making  his  apostolic  circuit  in 
Wiltshire,  Essex,  and  other  counties,  and  everywhere  his 
orphans  found  friends.  'Field  preaching,'  he  said,  'is  my 
plan ;  in  this  I  am  carried  as  on  eagles'  wings.  God  makes 
way  for  me  everywhere.  The  work  of  the  Lord  increases.  I 
am  comforted  day  and  night.'  In  London  he  saw  such 
triumphs  of  the  gospel  as  he  had  never  seen  in  England 
before.  The  whole  kingdom  also  was  opening  its  doors  to 
him ;  and  soon  he  was  to  have  such  a  list  of  subscribers  to 
his  charity  as  perhaps  no  one  else  ever  held  in  his  hand ;  he 
could  count  on  helpers  in  every  county  in  England  and  Wales, 
in  large  districts  of  Scotland,  and  in  America  from  Boston  to 
Savannah. 

The  friendly  relation  between  Whitefield  and  the  Erskines, 
begun  by  a  brotherly  letter  from  Whitefield  in  the  first  instance, 
which  letter  Ralph  Erskine,  with  true  Scottish  caution, 
answered  only  after  making  inquiries  about  his  open-hearted 
correspondent,  now  caused  pressing  invitations  to  be  sent 
from  Scotland.  The  Erskines  and  their  friends  had  just 
seceded  from  the  Church  of  Scotland,  on  the  ground  of  its 
corruptness,  and  had  the  difficult  task  of  founding  and  estab- 
lishing a  new  church.  In  this  task  they  were  naturally  anxious 
to  get  all  possible  help,  and  looked  with  high  expectation  to 
the  mighty  preacher  who  had  achieved  such  wonders  in 
England  and  America,  and  whose  theological  views  harmonised 
perfectly  with  their  own,  and  with  those  of  their  fellow-country- 
men generally.  He  was  more  intimate  with  them  than  with 
any  one  else  in  Scotland,  and  had  often  said  how  much 
pleasure  it  would  afford  him  to  visit  them.  Accordingly, 
Ralph  wrote  in  very  urgent  terms:  'Come,'  he  said,  'if 
possible,  dear  Whitefield  ;  come,  and  come  to  us  also.'  He 
strongly  deprecated  Whitefield's  appearing  in  the  pulpits  of 


170  GEORGE  WHITEF1ELD 

the  kirk,  lest  it  should  be  '  improver!  against  the  Associate 
Presbytery.'  On  the  day  of  receiving  this  letter,  Whitefield 
wrote  to  Ebenezer,  and,  referring  to  it,  said  that  he  could  not 
fall  in  with  its  suggestion.  '  I  come  only  as  an  occasional 
preacher,  to  preach  the  simple  gospel  to  all  who  are  willing  to 
hear  me,  of  whateyer_jienomination.  It  will  be  wrong  in  me 
to  join  a  reformation  in  Church  government  any  further  than 
I  have  light  given  me  from  above.'  The  answer  of  Ebenezer 
was  creditable  to  his  candour ;  after  expressing  his  pleasure 
on  hearing  the  good  news  of  Whitefield's  success,  he  said  : — 

'  How  desirable  would  it  be  to  all  the  sincere  lovers  of  Jesus  Christ  in 
Scotland,  to  see  Him  "  travelling  in  the  greatness  of  His  strength  "  among 
us  also  in  your  ministrations  !  .  .  .  All  intended  by  us  at  present  is,  that 
when  you  come  to  Scotland,  your  way  may  be  such  as  not  to  strengthen 
the  hands  of  our  corrupt  clergy  and  judicatories,  who  are  carrying  on  a 
course  of  defection,  worming  out  a  faithful  ministry  from  the  land,  and  the 
power  of  religion  with  it.  Far  be  it  from  us  to  limit  your  great  Master's 
commission  to  preach  the  gospel  to  every  creature.  We,  ourselves,  preach 
the  gospel  to  all  promiscuously  who  are  willing  to  hear  us.  But  we  preach 
not  upon  the  call  and  invitation  of  the  ministers,  but  of  the  people,  which, 
I  suppose,  is  your  own  practice  now  in  England.' 

Whitefield  thought  that  the  Associate  Presbytery  was  '  a 
little  too  hard  '  upon  him,  and  said  that  if  he  was  neuter  as 
to  the  particular  reformation  of  Church  government  till  he 
had  further  light,  it  would  be  enough  ;  he  would  come  simply 
to  preach  the  gospel,  and  not  to  enter  into  any  particular 
connection  whatever.  Had  none  but  the  Erskines  sought  a 
visit  from  him,  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  he  would  have 
gone  to  Scotland  to  preach  only  in  connection  with  them, 
while  abstaining  from  all  interference  with  the  points  in  dispute 
between  them  and  the  Kirk  ;  but  Kirk  people  were  as  anxious 
as  their  rivals  to  see  him.  An  opportunity  was  thus  made  for 
him  to  go  to  any  party  who  would  have  him,  only  the  Erskines 
had  the  first  claim,  and  must  have  the  first  visit. 


HIS  'DEAR  LAMBS'  171 

Full  of  cafes  he  took  his  passage  from  London  to  Leith. 
Chief  of  all  cares,  and  yet  chief  of  all  earthly  joys,  was 
that  distant  family.  He  hopes,  when  he  gets  aboard,  to 
redeem  time  to  answer  his  '  dear  lambs'  letters.'  They  had 
rejoiced  him  exceedingly.  He  begs  Mr.  Barber  to  be 
particular  in  the  accounts — and  not  without  reason,  since 
slander  was  soon  busy  with  a  tale  about  personal  ends  which 
Whitefield  was  serving.  He  sends  word  that  he  has  ordered 
hats  and  shoes  for  the  children,  and  intends  to  send  brother 

H 's  order  and  other  things  with  some  cash  very  shortly. 

1  But  the  arrears  hang  on  me  yet.  My  Lord  bears  my  burden  ; 
may  He  bear  all  yours  for  you.  I  am  persuaded  He  will.' 
When  he  sailed  he  found  time  to  gratify  his  desire  about 
the  orphans,  and  ten  of  his  short  letters  are  preserved.  They 
cannot  compare  with  such  charming  letters  as  Irving  wrote 
to  his  little  daughter,  and  now  and  again  the  harshest  parts 
of  his  creed  appear  in  a  most  unpleasing  form ;  but  love 
keeps  breaking  through  every  line  to  lend  its  own  gentle 
light  to  the  hearts  of  the  little  ones.  It  was  in  his  best 
manner  that  he  wrote  to  a  child  at  Boston  : — 

'My  dear  Child, — I  thank  you  for  your  letter  ;  I  neither  forgot  you 
nor  my  promise.  O,  that  God  may  effectually  work  upon  your  heart 
betimes,  for  you  cannot  be  good  too  soon,  or  loo  good.  The  little  orphans 
;  t  Georgia  are  crying  out,  "  What  shall  we  do  to  be  saved?  "  How  early 
was  Jesus  in  the  temple,  first  hearing  and  then  asking  questions  !  How 
did  He  love  the  little  children,  how  did  He  take  them  up  in  His  sacred 
arms  and  bless  them  !  And  when  He  was  just  ascending  to  the  highest 
heaven,  how  tenderly  did  He  speak  to  Peter,  and  bid  him  "feed  His 
lambs."     Let  all  this  encourage  you  to  come  to  Him.' 

Sifting  the  rest  of  the  correspondence,  we  come  upon  a 
sentence  in  a  letter  to  the  students  at  Cambridge  and  New 
Haven  in  America,  who  had  partaken  of  the  religious  influence 
so  sedulously  diffused  by  Whitefield  during  his  American  tour, 
which    is   worth   a   place   m    every  student's  room,    '  Hence- 


172  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

forward,  therefore,  I  hope  you  will  enter  into  your  studies, 
not  to  get  a  parish,  nor  to  be  polite  preachers,  but  to  be  great 
saints.' 

The  Mary  and  Ann,  after  a  pleasant  passage,  landed  White- 
field  at  Leith  on  July  30,  1741,  ten  years  before  Wesley  first 
visited  Scotland.  He  was  come  to  a  generation  which  Ebenezer 
Erskine  described  as  '  being  generally  lifeless,  lukewarm,  and 
upsitten.'  Yet  there  was  no  little  warmth  about  the  stranger 
whom  the  Associate  Presbytery  and  the  Kirk  both  struggled 
for.  Persons  of  distinction  welcomed  him,  and  urged  him 
to  preach  in  Edinburgh  on  the  day  of  his  arrival.  But  he 
stayed  in  the  city  only  an  hour,  and  went  thence,  as  Ralph 
Erskine  phrases  it,  '  over  the  belly  of  vast  opposition,'  and 
came  to  Ralph's  house  at  Dunfermline  at  ten  o'clock  at  night. 
Next  morning  guest  and  host  conferred  together  alone  on 
Church  matters,  when  Whitefield  admitted  that  he  had  changed 
his  views  of  ordination ;  at  the  time  of  his  ordination  he 
knew  no  better  way,  but  now,  '  he  would  not  have  it  again 
in  that  way  for  a  thousand  worlds.'  As  to  preaching,  he  was 
firm  in  his  resolution  to  go  wherever  he  was  asked,  into  the 
Kirk  or  into  the  meeting-house.  Were  a  Jesuit  priest  or  a 
Mohammedan  to  give  him  an  invitation  he  would  gladly 
comply,  and  go  and  testify  against  them  !  Whitefield  wrote 
to  Cennick,  telling  him  that  Erskine  had  received  him  'very 
lovingly.'     He  says  : — 

'  I  preached  to  his  and  the  townspeople  ' — this  was  in  the  afternoon  of 
the  day  after  his  arrival,  and  in  the  meeting-house — '  a  very  thronged 
assembly.  After  I  had  done  prayer  and  named  my  text,  the  rustling  made 
by  opening  the  Bibles  all  at  once  surprised  me ;  a  scene  I  never  was 
witness  to  before.  Our  conversation  after  sermon,  in  the  house,  was  such 
as  became  the  gospel  of  Christ.  .  .  .  They  urged  a  longer  stay,  in  order 
to  converse  more  closely,  and  to  set  me  right  about  Church  government  and 
the  Solemn  League  and  Covenant.  I  informed  them  that  I  had  given 
notice  of  preaching  at  Edinburgh  this  evening,   but,   as  they  desired   it, 


CONFERENCE    WITH  THE  SECEDERS        173 

I  would  in  a  few  days  return  and  meet  the  Associate  Presbytery  in 
Mr.  Ralph's  house.  This  was  agreed  on.  Dear  Mr.  Erskine  accompanied 
me,  and  this  evening  I  preached  to  many  thousands  in  a  place  called 
Orphan-house  Park.     The  Lord  was  there.' 

The  proposed  conference  took  place  at  Ralph  Erskine's 
house  on  the  sixth  day  after  Whitefield's  arrival  in  the  country. 
There  were  present  Ralph  and  Ebenezer  Erskine,  Alexander 
Moncrieff,  Adam  Gib,  Thomas  and  James  Mair,  and  Mr. 
Clarkson  ;  also  two  elders,  James  Wardlow  and  John  Mowbray. 
Ralph  called  the  'tryst,'  and  Ebenezer  began  the  proceedings 
with  prayer.  Some  of  the  venerable  men  had  come  with  the 
persuasion  that  they  would  succeed  in  making  Whitefield 
an  Associate  Presbyterian ;  the  wiser  portion  hoped  for 
nothing  more  than  to  stagger  his  faith  in  any  and  every 
form  of  Church  government  which  was  different  from  theirs, 
to  keep  him  in  suspense,  and  in  the  meanwhile  to  secure 
his  services  in  their  meeting-houses  for  the  establishment  of 
their  cause.  These  also  meant  his  conversion,  but  knew  that 
it  must  be  an  affair  beyond  the  power  of  a  morning's  sitting  of 
any  Presbytery  ;  it  would  be  enough  to  enter  into  an  alliance 
with  him.  Whitefield  had  evidently  come  to  the  meeting 
determined  to  keep  himself  from  all  alliances.  The  seceders 
were  separating  from  the  Established  Church  on  the  ground 
that  no  persons  holding  '  unscriptural  tenets  should  be 
admitted  members  of  the  Church  ; '  and  the  interpretation 
unscriptural  tenets  was  so  rigid  as  to  mean  that  any  man 
who  differed  from  them  in  his  views  of  Church  government 
should  not  hold  communion  with  them.  Hence  their  reason 
for  wishing  to  convert  Whitefield  was  plain.  Nor  need  any 
surprise  be  felt  at  such  stickling  for  Church  government ;  they 
were  in  an  unenviable  position  of  separation,  and  thus  naturally 
anxious  to  prove  their  zeal  for  order  as  well  as  for  orthodoxy. 
It  was  thus  that  the  conversation  turned  upon  Church  govern- 


174  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

merit,  though  Whitefield  went  away  with  the  impression  that 
they  also  wanted  to  bring  him  round  to  the  Solemn  League 
and  Covenant !  That  was  most  likely  a  spectre  in  the  mist. 
To  Whitefield's  question,  '  Whether,  supposing  Presbyterian 
government  to  be  agreeable  to  the  pattern  shown  in  the 
mount,  it  excluded  a  toleration  of  Independents,  Anabaptists, 
and  Episcopalians,  among  whom  there  are  good  men,' 
Ebenezer  Erskine  replied,  with  fine  dexterity :  '  Sir,  God  has 
made  you  an  instrument  of  gathering  a  great  multitude  of 
souls  to  the  faith  and  profession  of  the  gospel  of  Christ 
throughout  England,  and  also  in  foreign  parts ;  and  now  it 
is  fit  that  you  should  be  considering  how  that  body  is  to  be 
organised  and  preserved,  which  cannot  be  done  without 
following  the  example  of  Paul  and  Barnabas,  who,  when 
they  had  gathered  Churches  by  the  preaching  of  the  gospel, 
visited  them  again,  and  ordained  over  them  elders  in  every 
city ;  which  you  cannot  do  alone,  without  some  two  or  three 
met  together  in  a  judicative  capacity  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.'  Whitefield  answered  that  he  could  not  see  his  way 
to  anything  but  preaching.  But,  it  was  urged,  supposing  he 
were  to  die,  the  flock  would  be  scattered  and  might  fall  a  prey 
to  grievous  wolves.  Then  he  fixed  himself  on  a  resolution, 
which,  with  the  views  that  he  had  expressed  about  his 
ordination,  it  was,  no  doubt,  made  sure  he  could  never  reach. 
'  I  am  of  the  communion  of  the  Church  of  England,'  he  said  ; 
'  none  in  that  communion  can  join  me  in  the  work  you 
have  pointed  to ;  neither  do  I  mean  to  separate  from  that 
communion  till  I  am  either  cast  out  or  excommunicated.' 
All  tempers  were  not  cool  under  the  reasoning  that  went  on ; 
indeed,  how  could  nine  Scots,  each  one  holding  to  the  skirts 
of  his  sacred  Church,  keep  cool  when  dealing  with  a  prelatist  ? 
The  interview  ended  in  a  scene.  While  it  was  being  con- 
tended  that   one   form  of  Church   government   was   divine, 


U'HITEFIELDS  ECCLESIASTICAL  POSITION   175 

Whitefield,  laying  his  hand  on  his  heart,  said  :  '  I  do  not  find 
it  here.'  Alexander  Moncrieff  replied,  as  he  rapped  the  Bible 
that  lay  on  the  table  :  '  But  I  find  it  here.' 

It  is  evident  that  Whitefield's  ecclesiastical  position  for 
the  future  is  to  be  judged  of  by  these  three  things:  1.  That 
he  did  not  believe  that  any  form  of  Church  government  was  of 
divine  origin.  2.  That  his  ordination  to  be  a  priest  of  the 
Church  of  England  did  not  any  longer  accord  with  his 
conceptions  of  ordination  to  the  ministerial  functions.  3.  That 
he  was  not  free  to  leave  the  Church  of  England  ;  he  must  be 
cast  off,  if  the  connection  must  cease. 

The  unfortunate  close  of  the  conference  was  a  great  sorrow 
to  Ralph  Erskine,  who  wrote  to  Whitefield,  and  plainly,  but 
kindly,  told  him  that  he  was  '  sorrowful  for  being  disappointed 
about  Whitefield's  lying  open  to  light,  as  appeared  from  his 
declining  conversation  on  that  head  ;  and  also  for  his  coming 
harnessed  with  a  resolution  to  stand  out  against  everything 
that  should  be  advanced  against '  (presumably  the  Estab- 
lished Church).  Ralph  must  not  be  allowed  to  rest  under  the 
shade  of  bigotry  which  the  words  attributed  to  him,  '  We  are 
the  Lord's  people,'  would  cast  over  him.  He  may  have  used 
the  very  words  in  that  warm  discussion,  when  the  ringing 
of  bells  and  the  expectation  of  sermon  and  the  firmness 
of  Whitefield  threw  him  into  confusion ;  but  in  calmer 
moments,  when  meeting  his  seceding  followers  at  the  table 
of  the  Lord,  he  could  speak  as  became  his  better  self,  and 
say,  '  We  are  far  from  thinking  that  all  are  Christ's  friends 
that  join  with  us,  and  that  all  are  His  enemies  that  do  not. 
No,  indeed.'  Had  the  Presbytery  consisted  only  of  the  two 
brothers  and  young  David  Erskine,  the  son  of  Ebenezer,  no 
disruption  would  have  come  about ;  neither  would  Ralph 
have  been  provoked  to  insinuate  in  a  letter  to  Whitefield,  that 
the  orphan-house  was  making  him  temporise.     '  Indeed,  dear 


176  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

sir,'  Whitefield  replied,  'you  mistake,  if  you  think  I  temporise 
on  account  of  the  orphans.  Be  it  far  from  me.  I  abhor  the 
very  thought  of  it.' 

There  was  commotion  in  all  classes  of  society,  and  no  small 
division,  about  this  new  preacher  who  depicted  scenes,  who 
appealed  to  the  heart  and  conscience,  and  who  offered  to  every 
man  the  riches  of  Divine  grace  with  solemn  urgency.  Some 
were  against  him  on  the  ground  that  his  character  was 
not  sufficiently  established  ;  and  even  his  friends  commonly 
called  him  'that  godly  youth.'  Yet  he  was  on  a  flood-tide 
of  popularity  in  the  Scottish  capital.  He  had  the  ear  of  the 
people  from  the  poorest  to  the  noblest.  At  seven  in  the 
morning  he  had  a  lecture  in  the  fields,  which  was  attended 
by  '  the  common  people  and  by  persons  of  rank.'  The  v  ?ry 
children  of  the  city  caught  the  spirit  of  his  devotion,  and 
would  hear  him  eagerly  while  he  read  to  them  the  letters 
of  his  orphans.  At  Heriot's  Hospital  the  boys,  who  had  been 
x\r '  d  as  the  most  wicked  in  the  city,  established  fellowship 
meetings  among  themselves ;  indeed,  children's  meetings 
sprung  up  all  over  the  city.  Great  numbers  of  young  men 
met  for  promoting  their  Christian  knowledge ;  and  aged 
Christians,  who  had  long  maintained  an  honest  profession 
of  Christianity,  were  stimulated  to  seek  closer  brotherly 
communion. 

Great  as  was  the  danger  of  this  time,  Whitefield  bore 
himself  with  humility  in  the  midst  of  applause,  with  love 
towards  his  enemies,  and  with  patience  and  meekness  so 
exemplary  under  the  reproaches,  the  injuries,  and  the  slanders 
which  were  heaped  upon  him,  that  one  minister  thought  that 
God  had  sent  him  to  show  him  how  to  preach,  and  especially 
how  to  suffer.  In  the  pulpit  he  was  like  a  flame  of  fire ; 
among  men  he  was  most  calm  and  easy,  careful  never  to 
give   offence,   and   never   courting   the   favour   of  any.     His 


Aberdeen  177 

temper  was  cheerful  and  grateful.  His  disinterestedness 
shone  conspicuously  in  his  refusal  to  accept  a  private 
contribution  which  some  zealous  friends  thought  of  giving 
him.  '  I  make  no  purse,'  he  said  ;  'what  I  have  I  give  away. 
"  Poor,  yet  making  many  rich,"  shall  be  my  motto  still.'  All 
that  he  cared  for  was  his  family  ;  he  would  rather  bear  any 
burden  than  have  it  burdened.  His  pleadings  on  its  behalf 
had  the  usual  effect,  and  some  '  evil  men  '  soon  had  their 
tongues  busy.  Thousands  of  prayers  were  offered  for  him, 
and  thousands  of  lies  were  spread  abroad  against  him.  It 
was  said  that  he  was  hindering  the  poor  from  paying  their 
debts,  and  impoverishing  their  families.  But  the  fact  was  that 
his  largest  donations  came  from  the  rich.  He  said  to  his 
friends  respecting  all  this  slander,  for  he  never  noticed  it 
publicly,  '  I  would  have  no  one  afraid  of  doing  too  much 
good,  or  think  that  a  little  given  in  charity  will  impoverish  the 
country.' ' 

Edinburgh  did  not  monopolise  his  labours ;  Glasgow, 
Dundee,  Paisley,  Perth,  Stirling,  Crieff,  Falkirk,  Airth,  Kin^, 
lassie,  Culross,  Kinross,  Cupar  of  Fife,  Stonehive,  Benholm, 
Montrose,  Brechin,  Forfar,  Cupar  of  Angus,  Inverkeithing, 
Newbottle,  Galashiels,  Maxton,  Haddington,  Killern,  Fintry, 
Balfrone,  and  Aberdeen  received  a  visit  from  him.  His  visit 
to  Aberdeen  was  at  the  oft-repeated  request  of  Mr.  Ogilvie, 
one  of  the  ministers  of  the  kirk,  and  is  thus  described  by 
himself : — - 

'  At  my  first  coming  here,  things  looked  a  little  gloomy  ;  for  the 
magistrates  had  been  so  prejudiced  by  one  Mr.  Bisset,  that,  when  applied 
to,  they  refused  me  the  use  of  the  kirk-yard  to  preach  in.    This  Mr.  Bisset 


*  This  alarm  about  impoverishing  the  country  does  not  look  so  absurd 
when  it  is  remembered  that  in  1706  the  total  revenue  of  Scotland  was  only 
£160,000. 

13 


178  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

is  colleague  with  Mr.  Ogilvie,  at  whose  repeated  invitation  I  came  hither. 
Though  colleagues  of  the  same  congregation,  they  are  very  different  in 
their  natural  tempers.  The  one  is  what  they  call  in  Scotland  of  a  sweet- 
blooded,  the  other  of  a  choleric  disposition.  Mr.  Bisset  is  neither  a 
Seceder  nor  quite  a  Kirk  man,  having  great  fault  to  find  with  both.  Soon 
after  my  arrival,  dear  Mr.  Ogilvie  took  me  to  pay  my  respects  to  him  ;  he 
was  prepared  for  it,  and  immediately  pulled  out  a  paper  containing  a  great 
number  of  insignificant  queries,  which  I  had  neither  time  nor  inclination  to 
answer.  The  next  morning,  it  being  Mr.  Ogilvie's  turn,  I  lectured  and 
preached ;  the  magistrates  were  present.  The  congregation  very  large, 
and  light  and  life  fled  all  around.  In  the  afternoon  Mr.  Bisset  officiated ; 
I  attended.  He  began  his  prayers  as  usual,  but  in  the  midst  of  them, 
naming  me  by  name,  he  entreated  the  Lord  to  forgive  the  dishonour  that 
had  been  put  upon  Him  by  my  being  suffered  to  preach  in  that  pulpit ; 
and  that  all  might  know  what  reason  he  had  to  put  up  such  a  petition, 
about  the  middle  of  his  sermon  he  not  only  urged  that  I  was  a  curate 
of  the  Church  of  England,  but  also  quoted  a  passage  or  two  out  of  my  first 
printed  sermons,  which  he  said  were  grossly  Arminian.  Most  of  the 
congregation  seemed  surprised  and  chagrined,  especially  his  good-natured 
colleague,  Mr.  Ogilvie,  who,  immediately  after  sermon,  without  consulting 
me  in  the  least,  stood  up  and  gave  notice  that  Mr.  Whitefield  would  preach 
in  about  half  an  hour.  The  interval  being  so  short,  the  magistrates  returned 
into  the  sessions-house,  and  the  congregation  patiently  waited,  big  with 
expectation  of  hearing  my  resentment.  At  the  time  appointed  I  went 
up,  and  took  no  other  notice  of  the  good  man's  ill-timed  zeal  than  to 
observe,  in  some  part  of  my  discourse,  that  if  the  good  old  gentleman  had 
seen  some  of  my  later  writings,  wherein  I  had  corrected  several  of  my 
former  mistakes,  he  would  not  have  expressed  himself  in  such  strong 
terms.  The  people  being  thus  diverted  from  controversy  with  man, 
were  deeply  impressed  with  what  they  heard  from  the  Word  of  God. 
/ill  was  hushed,  and  more  than  solemn ;  and  on  the  morrow  the 
magistrates  sent  for  me,  expressed  themselves  quite  concerned  at  the 
treatment  I  had  met  with,  and  begged  I  would  accept  of  the  freedom 
of  the  city.     But  of  this  enough.' 

The  spirit  of  love  had  been  remarkably  developed  and 
strengthened  in  Whitefield  since  his  return  from  America ;  his 
troubles,  keen  and  undeserved  as  they  were,  had  proved  a 
kindly  chastening  to  his  spirit.  The  fine  frankness  of  his 
nature  and  the  sincerity  of  his  religion  were  shown  at  Aber- 
deen in  a  letter  which  he  wrote  to  Wesley  asking  his  forgive- 


MARRIAGE  179 

ness  for  a  wrong  he  felt  he  had  done  him,  and  in  another  to 
Peter  Bohler,  whose  name  he  had  mentioned  in  a  very 
inoffensive  way  in  his  famous  letter  to  Wesley  from  Bethesda. 
In  the  case  of  Bohler  he  had  not  sinned  openly,  but  he  knew 
that  he  had  broken  the  law  of  charity  in  his  own  heart ;  and 
such  faults  are  much  to  the  true  Christian. 

His  Scotch  excursion  did  much  for  the  kingdom  of  God,  if 
little  for  the  Associate  Presbytery ;  it  also  brought  him  more 
worldly  honour  than  he  had  ever  before  known.  He  was  wel- 
comed to  their  houses  by  several  of  the  nobility,  and  became 
the  friend,  correspondent,  and  religious  helper  of  the  Marquis 
of  Lothian,  the  Earl  of  Leven,  Lord  Rae,  Lady  Mary  Hamil- 
ton, Colonel  Gardiner,  Lady  Frances  Gardiner  (wife  of  the 
Colonel),  Lady  Jean  Nimmo,  and  Lady  Dirleton.  Lord 
Leven  gave  him  a  horse  to  perform  his  journeys  on ;  the 
Scotch  people  gave  him  above  five  hundred  pounds  for  his 
orphans. 

Riding  his  gift-horse,  he  took  his  way  from  Scotland  to 
Wales  to  be  married.  Not  a  word  has  been  found  about  his 
courtship.  Whether  he  preached  on  his  journey  or  not,  does 
not  appear,  but  in  ten  days  (Nov.  14,  1741)  he  was  at  Aber- 
gavenny, ready  to  be  joined  in  matrimony  to  Mrs.  James,  a 
widow  of  about  thirty-six  years  of  age  (he  was  twenty-six), 
neither  rich  nor  beautiful,  '  once  gay,  but  for  three  years  last 
past  a  despised  follower  of  the  Lamb,'  one  of  whom  he 
cherished  the  hope  that  she  would  not  hinder  him  in  his 
work.  Wesley,  who  speaks  of  her  in  his  journal  but  a  month 
before  the  marriage,  had  a  favourable  opinion  of  her  ;  he  calls 
her  'a  woman  of  candour  and  humanity,'  and,  we  may  add, 
courage,  seeing  she  compelled  some  complainers,  who  had 
been  free  with  their  tongues  in  Wesley's  absence,  to  repeat 
everything  to  his  face.  There  is  an  Eden-like  story  told  about 
the  marriage  with  the  matronly  housekeeper,  which,  though  not 


180  GEORGE    WHITEFIELD 

to  be  depended  upon,  may  serve  to  brighten  a  prosaic  event. 
Ebenezer  Jones,  minister  of  Ebenezer  Chapel,  near  Pontypool, 
was  most  happy  in  his  marriage.  His  wife  was  a  woman  of 
eminent  piety  and  strong  mind  ;  they  were  married  in  youth, 
and  years  only  deepened  their  affection.  Mrs.  Jones  died 
first,  and  the  afflicted  widower  would  say,  when  speaking  of  the 
joys  of  another  world,  '  I  would  not  for  half  a  heaven  but  find 
her  there.'  Whitefield,  it  is  said,  was  so  enchanted  with  their 
happiness,  when  visiting  at  their  house,  that  he  immediately 
determined  to  change  his  condition,  and  soon  paid  his 
addresses  to  Mrs.  James.  And  she  seems  to  have  been  as 
good  a  wife  to  him  as  perhaps  any  woman  could  have  been. 
Home-life  they  could  never  know  so  long  as  he  would  preach 
all  day,  and  write  letters  at  night,  and  this  practice  he  kept 
up  until  he  died. 

There  was  probably  no  cessation  of  preaching  ;  only  a  few 
days  after  the  celebration  of  the  marriage  he  wrote  to  tell  an 
Edinburgh  friend  that  God  had  been  pleased  to  work  by  his 
hand  since  his  coming  to  Wales.  Three  days  later  still  he  was 
in  Bristol,  building  up  religious  societies,  and  preaching  in  a 
large  hall  which  his  friends  had  hired ;  and  Mrs.  Whitefield  was 
at  Abergavenny,  staying  till  he  could  conveniently  take  her 
with  him  on  his  journeys.1 

His  appeal  from  the  jurisdiction  of  the  commissary  of 
Charleston  was  now  returned  to  him  from  the  Lords,  who  saw 
through  the  commissary's  enmity;  and  there  was  an  end  of 
that  trouble. 


1  Bristol  had  another  distinguished  visitor  at  this  time.  Savage  was 
detained  in  Newgate  for  a  debt  of  eight  pounds  ;  his  best  friend  was  Mr. 
Dagge,  the  tender  gaoler,  whose  virtues  Johnson  has  praised  in  high  terms, 
probably  not  knowing  that  he  was  praising  a  convert  of  Whitefield's.  It  is 
almost  certain  that  Whitefield  sometimes  sat  down  at  the  keeper's  hospit- 
able table  with  that  strange  guest. 


WHITSUNTIDE  IN  MOORFIELDS  1S1 

His  work  now  lay  in  Bristol,  where  he  began  'a  general 
monthly  meeting  to  read  corresponding  letters,'  and  between 
that  place  and  London — the  same  district  in  which  he  won  his 
first  successes  in  itinerant  preaching ;  and  everywhere  the 
desire  to  hear  the  truth  was  more  intense  than  ever.  Finally, 
he  went  to  London,  taking  his  wife  with  him,  and  probably 
lodged  with  some  Methodist  friend,  one  carefully  chosen,  as  he 
was  careful  about  the  houses  he  went  to,  nor  was  it  every  one 
who  could  have  his  presence.  To  one  London  brother  who 
wanted  to  have  him  and  his  wife,  he  replied  : — 

'  I  know  not  what  to  say  about  coming  to  your  house  ;  for  brother  S 

tells  me  you  and  your  family  are  dilatory,  and  that  you  do  not  rise  some- 
times till  nine  or  ten  in  the  morning.     This,  dear  Mr.  N ,  will  never  do 

for  me  ;  and  I  am  persuaded  such  a  conduct  tends  much  to  the  dishonour 
of  God,  and  to  the  prejudice  of  your  own  precious  soul.  Be  not  slothful 
in  business.  Go  to  bed  seasonably,  and  rise  early.  Redeem  your  precious 
time  ;  pick  up  the  fragments  of  it,  that  not  one  moment  may  be  lost. 
Be  much  in  secret  prayer.  Converse  less  with  man,  and  more  with 
God.' 

To  this  wise  circumspection,  and  the  fact  that  he  was  always 
the  guest  of  men  of  undoubted  piety  or  of  untarnished  repu- 
tation, may  in  part  be  ascribed  his  triumph  over  all  the  base 
slanders  of  his  enemies. 

He  spent  the  winter  1741-42  mostly  in  preaching  in  his 
wooden  tabernacle,  London.  Everything  was  helping  to 
prepare  him  for  another  of  those  daring  religious  forays  of 
which  he  is  the  most  brilliant  captain  ;  this  was  the  enterprise 
he  attempted — to  beat  the  devil  in  Moorfields  on  Whit- 
Monday.     The  soldier  is  the  best  historian  here  : — 

'  London,  May  11,  1742. 
'  With  this  I  send  you  a  few  out  of  the  many  notes  I  have  received  from 
persons  who  were  convicted,  converted,  or  comforted  in  .Moorfields  during 
the  late  holidays.    For  many  weeks  I  found  my  heart  much  pressed  to  deter- 


1 82  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

mine  to  venture  to  preach  there  at  this  season,  when,  il  ever,  Satan's 
children  keep  up  their  annual  rendezvous.  I  must  inform  you  that  Moor- 
fields  is  a  large  spacious  place,  given,  as  I  have  been  told,  by  one  Madam 
Moore,  on  purpose  for  all  sorts  of  people  to  divert  themselves  in.  For  many 
years  past,  from  one  end  to  the  other,  booths  of  all  kinds  have  been  erected 
for  mountebanks,  players,  puppet-shows,  and  such  like.  With  a  heart 
bleeding  with  compassion  for  so  many  thousands  led  captive  by  the  devil  at 
his  will,  on  Whit  Monday,  at  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  attended  by  a 
large  congregation  of  praying  people,  I  ventured  to  lift  up  a  standard  among 
them  in  the  name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  Perhaps  there  were  about  ten 
thousand  in  waiting — not  for  me,  but  for  Satan's  instruments  to  amuse 
them.  Glad  was  I  to  find  that  I  had  for  once,  as  it  were,  got  the  start  of 
the  devil.  I  mounted  my  field  pulpit ;  almost  all  immediately  flocked 
around  it.  I  preached  on  these  words:  "As  Moses  lifted  up  the 
serpent,"  &c.  They  gazed,  they  listened,  they  wept ;  and  I  believe  that 
many  felt  themselves  stung  with  deep  conviction  for  their  past  sins.  All 
was  hushed  and  solemn.  Being  thus  encouraged,  I  ventured  out  again  at 
noon  ;  but  what  a  scene  !  The  fields,  the  whole  fields,  seemed,  in  a  bad 
sense  of  the  word,  all  white,  ready,  not  for  the  Redeemer's,  but  Beelzebub's, 
harvest.  All  his  agents  were  in  full  motion — drummers,  trumpeters, 
Merry  Andrews,  masters  of  puppet-shows,  exhibitors  of  wild  beasts, 
players,  &c. ,  &c. — all  busy  in  entertaining  their  respective  audiences.  I 
suppose  there  could  not  be  less  than  twenty  or  thirty  thousand  people.  My 
pulpit  was  fixed  on  the  opposite  side,  and  immediately,  to  their  great 
mortification,  they  found  the  number  of  their  attendants  sadly  lessened. 
Judging  that,  like  St.  Paul,  I  should  now  be  called,  as  it  were,  to  fight  with 
beasts  at  Ephesus,  I  preached  from  these  words  :  "Great  is  Diana  of  the 
Ephesians."  You  may  easily  guess  that  there  was  some  noise  among  the 
craftsmen,  and  that  I  was  honoured  with  having  a  few  stones,  rotten  eggs, 
and  pieces  of  dead  cat  thrown  at  me,  whilst  engaged  in  calling  them  from 
their  favourite,  but  lying,  vanities.  My  soul  was  indeed  among  lions  !  but 
far  the  greatest  part  of  my  congregation,  which  was  very  large,  seemed  for 
awhile  to  be  turned  into  lambs.  This  encouraged  me  to  give  notice  that  I 
would  preach  again  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  I  came,  I  saw,  but  what 
— thousands  and  thousands  more  than  before  if  possible,  still  more  deeply 
engaged  in  their  unhappy  diversions  ;  but  some  thousands  among  them 
waiting  as  earnestly  to  hear  the  gospel.  This  Satan  could  not  brook.  One 
of  his  choicest  servants  was  exhibiting,  trumpeting  on  a  large  stage;  but  as 
soon  as  the  people  saw  me  in  my  black  robes  and  my  pulpit,  I  think  all  to 
a  man  left  him  and  ran  to  me.  For  awhile  I  was  enabled  to  lift  up  my 
voice  like  a  trumpet,  and  many  heard  the  joyful  sound.  God's  people  kept 
praying,  and  the  enemy's  agents  made  a  kind  of  a  roaring  at  some  distance 
from  our  camp.      At   length    they   approached    nearer,  and   the   Merry 


THE  TABERNACLE  SOCIETY  183 

Andrew,  attended  by  others  who  complained  that  they  had  taken  many 
pounds  less  that  day  on  account  of  my  preaching,  got  upon  a  man's  shoul- 
ders, and  advancing  near  the  pulpit,  attempted  to  slash  me  with  a  long, 
heavy  whip  several  times,  but  always  with  the  violence  of  his  motion 
tumbled  down.  Soon  afterwards  they  got  a  recruiting  sergeant  with 
his  drum,  &c,  to  pass  through  the  congregation.  I  gave  the  word 
of  command,  and  ordered  that  way  might  be  made  for  the  king's 
officer.  The  ranks  opened  while  all  marched  quietly  through,  and 
then  closed  again.  Finding  their  efforts  to  fail,  a  large  body,  quite  on 
the  opposite  side,  assembled  together,  and  having  got  a  large  pole 
for  their  standard,  advanced  towards  us  with  steady  and  formidable 
steps  till  they  came  very  near  the  skirts  of  our  hearing,  praying,  and 
almost  undaunted  congregation.  I  saw,  gave  warning,  and  prayed  to 
the  Captain  of  our  salvation  for  present  support  and  deliverance.  He 
heard  and  answered,  for  just  as  they  approached  us  with  looks  full  of 
resentment,  I  know  not  by  what  accident  they  quarrelled  among  them- 
selves, threw  down  their  staff,  and  went  their  way,  leaving,  however,  many 
of  their  company  behind,  who,  before  we  had  done,  I  trust  were  brought 
over  to  join  the  besieged  party.  I  think  I  continued  in  praying,  preach- 
ing and  singing — for  the  noise  was  too  great  at  times  to  preach — about 
three  hours.  We  then  retired  to  the  Tabernacle,  with  my  pockets  full  of 
notes  from  persons  brought  under  concern,  and  read  them  amid  the 
praises  and  spiritual  acclamations  of  thousands  who  joined  with  the  holy 
angels  in  rejoicing  that  so  many  sinners  were  snatched,  in  such  an  unex- 
pected, unlikely  place  and  manner,  out  of  the  very  jaws  of  the  devil.  This 
was  the  beginning  of  the  Tabernacle  society.  Three  hundred  and  fifty 
awakened  souls  were  received  in  one  day,  and  I  believe  the  number  of 
notes  exceeded  a  thousand  ;  but  I  must  have  done,  believing  you  want  to 
retire  to  join  in  mutual  praise  and  thanksgiving  to  God  and  the  Lamb  with 

'  Yours,  &c. 

'  G.  Whitefield.' 


Bare  facts  support  the  statement  that  some  had  been 
'  plucked  from  the  very  jaws  of  the  devil.'  Whitefield  married 
several  who  had  been  living  in  open  adultery  ;  one  man  was 
converted  who  had  exchanged  his  wife  for  another,  and  given 
fourteen  shillings  to  boot ;  and  several  were  numbered  in  the 
society  whose  days  would  in  all  probability  have  been  ended 
at  Tyburn.  But  his  exploits  were  not  ended.  Here  is  a 
second  letter  : — 


1 84  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

'  London,  May  15,  1742. 
'  My  DEAR  Friend, — Fresh  matter  of  praise  ;  bless  ye  the  Lord,  for  He 
hath  triumphed  gloriously  !  The  battle  that  was  begun  on  Monday  was  not 
quite  over  till  Wednesday  evening,  though  the  scene  of  action  was  a  little 
shifted.  Being  strongly  invited,  and  a  pulpit  being  prepared  for  me  by  an 
honest  Quaker,  a  coal  merchant,  I  ventured  on  Tuesday  evening  to  preach 
at  Mary-le-bone  Fields,  a  place  almost  as  much  frequented  by  boxers, 
gamesters,  and  such  like,  as  Moorfields.  A  vast  concourse  was  assembled 
together,  and  as  soon  as  I  got  into  the  field-pulpit  their  countenance  bespoke 
the  enmity  of  their  heart  against  the  preacher.  I  opened  with  these  words  : 
"  I  am  not  ashamed  of  the  gospel  of  Christ  ;  for  it  is  the  power  of  God 
unto  salvation  to  every  one  that  believeth."  I  preached  in  great  jeopardy  ; 
for  the  pulpit  being  high  and  the  supports  not  well  fixed  in  the  ground,  it 
tottered  every  time  I  moved,  and  numbers  of  enemies  strove  to  push  my 
friends  against  the  supporters  in  order  to  throw  me  down.  But  the 
Redeemer  stayed  my  soul  on  Himself,  therefore  I  was  not  much  moved, 
unless  with  compassion  for  those  to  whom  I  was  delivering  my  Master's 
message,  which  I  had  reason  to  think,  by  the  strong  impressions  that  were 
made,  was  welcome  to  many.  But  Satan  did  not  like  thus  to  be  attacked 
in  his  strongholds,  and  I  narrowly  escaped  with  my  life  ;  for  as  I  was 
passing  from  the  pulpit  to  the  coach,  I  felt  my  wig  and  hat  to  be  almost  off. 
I  turned  about,  and  perceived  a  sword  just  touching  my  temple.  A  young 
rake,  as  I  afterwards  found,  was  determined  to  stab  me  ;  but  a  gentleman, 
seeing  the  sword  thrusting  near  me,  struck  it  up  with  his  cane,  and  so  the 
destined  victim  providentially  escaped.  Such  an  attempt  excited  abhor- 
rence ;  the  enraged  multitude  soon  seized  him,  and  had  it  not  been  for  one 
of  my  friends  who  received  him  into  his  house,  he  must  have  undergone  a 
severe  discipline.  The  next  day  I  renewed  my  attack  in  Moorfields ;  but, 
would  you  think  it  ?  after  they  found  that  peltings,  noise,  and  threatening.* 
would  not  do,  one  of  the  Merry  Andrews  got  up  into  a  tree  very  near  the 
pulpit,  and  shamefully  exposed  his  nakedness  before  all  the  people.  Such 
a  beastly  action  quite  abashed  the  serious  part  of  my  auditory,  whilst 
hundreds  of  another  stamp,  instead  of  rising  up  to  pull  down  the  unhappy 
wretch,  expressed  their  approbation  by  repeated  laughs.  I  must  own  at 
first  it  gave  me  a  shock  ;  I  thought  Satan  had  almost  outdone  himself;  but 
recovering  my  spirits  I  appealed  to  all,  since  now  they  had  such  a  spectacle 
before  them,  whether  I  had  wronged  human  nature  in  saying,  after  pious 
Bishop  Hall,  "  that  man,  when  left  to  himself,  is  half  a  devil  and  half  a 
beast;"  or,  as  the  great  Mr.  Law  expressed  himself,  "a  motley  mixture 
of  the  beast  and  devil."  Silence  and  attention  being  thus  gained,  I  con- 
cluded with  a  warm  exhortation,  and  closed  our  festival  enterprises  in 
reading  fresh  notes  that  were  put  up,  praising  and  blessing  God  amidst 
thousands  at  the  Tabernacle  for  what  He  had  done  for  precious  souls,  and 


ADAM  GIB'S  'WARNING'  185 

on  account  of  the  deliverances  He  had  wrought  out  for  me  and  His  people, 
I  could  enlarge  ;  but  being  about  to  embark  in  the  Mary  and  Ann  for 
Scotland,  I  must  hasten  to  subscribe  myself, 

'  Yours,  &c. , 

'  G.  Whitefield. 
'  P.S. — I  cannot  help  adding  that  several  little  boys  and  girls,  who  were 
fond  of  sitting  round  me  on  the  pulpit  while  I  preached,  and  handing  to 
me  people's  notes,  though  they  were  often  pelted  with  eggs,  dirt,  &c, 
thrown  at  me,  never  once  gave  way  ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  every  time  I  was 
struck  turned  up  their  little  weeping  eyes,  and  seemed  to  wish  they  could 
receive  the  blows  for  me.  God  make  them  in  their  growing  years  great  and 
living  martyrs  for  Him  who  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings 
perfects  praise  ! ' 

Whitefield,  accompanied  by  his  wife,  now  went  from  the 
excitement  of  London  to  that  of  Scotland  ;  and,  happily,  the 
voyage  afforded  him  a  few  days  for  quieter  engagements,  before 
rushing  into  the  heat  of  an  immense  revival.  Most  of  his  time 
on  board  ship  was  spent  in  secret  prayer.  He  landed  at  Leith 
on  June  3,  1742,  amid  the  blessings  and  tears  of  the  people, 
many  of  whom  followed  the  coach  up  to  Edinburgh,  again  to 
welcome  him  when  he  stepped  out. 

But  all  hearts  were  not  glad  for  his  return.  The  Associate 
Presbytery — still  smarting  under  the  rebuff  of  the  preceding 
year,  driven  to  the  greater  vehemence  for  their  testimony  the 
more  they  saw  it  unheeded,  and  made  the  more  contentious  by 
the  '  foreigner's  '  low  estimate  of  their  '  holy  contendings  ' — ■ 
were  full  of  wrath.  Even  the  Erskines  were  unfriendly.  But 
the  most  conspicuous  enemy  was  Adam  Gib,  of  Edinburgh, 
one  of  the  venerable  nine  with  whom  Whitefield  had  the 
amusing  interview  at  Dunfermline.  Gib  was  resolved  to 
expose  Whitefield,  and  thus  to  deliver  his  own  soul,  and,  it 
might  be,  the  souls  of  the  poor  deluded,  devil-blinded  people 
that  crowded  to  hear  the  deceiver.  Accordingly  he  'published, 
in  the  New  Church  at  Bristow,  upon  Sabbath,  June  6,  1742, 
"  A  Warning  against  countenancing  the  Ministrations  of  Mr 


1 86  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

George  Whitefield ; " '  and  certainly  the  trumpet  gave  no  un- 
certain sound.  The  '  Warning '  caused  such  a  commotion  that 
Gib  was  urged  to  print,  and  taking  this  as  a  hint  from  Provi- 
dence that  he  should  finish  his  holy  task,  he  expanded  a  short 
sermon  of  eight  pages  into  an  '  Appendix '  of  fifty-seven  ;  thus 
getting  ample  scope  to  make  his  charges,  and  to  prove  them,  if 
that  were  possible.  Gib  shows,  in  his  own  way,  '  that  Mr.  White- 
field  was  no  minister  of  Jesus  Christ ;  that  his  call  and  coming 
to  Scotland  were  scandalous  ;  that  his  practice  was  disorderly 
and  fertile  of  disorder ;  that  his  whole  doctrine  was,  and  his 
success  must  be,  diabolical ;  so  that  people  ought  to  avoid 
him,  from  duty  to  God,  to  the  Church,  to  themselves,  to  fellow- 
men,  to  posterity,  and  to  him.' 

Whitefield  was  not  soured  by  such  detraction  and  abuse,  but 
wrote  to  Ebenezer  Erskine,  to  say  how  much  concerned  he  was 
that  their  difference  as  to  outward  things  should  cut  off  their 
sweet  fellowship  and  communion  with  each  other.  He  pro- 
tested that  his  love  for  Erskine  and  Erskine's  brethren  was 
greater  than  ever ;  that  he  applauded  their  zeal  for  God,  though 
it  was  not,  in  some  respects,  according  to  knowledge,  and  was 
frequently  levelled  against  himself;  and  that  his  heart  had  no 
resentment  in  it.  Meanwhile  the  people,  not  heeding  Gib's 
'  Warning,'  flocked  to  the  Hospital  Park  and  filled  the  shaded 
wooden  amphitheatre  which  had  been  erected  for  their  accom- 
modation. Twice  a  day  Whitefield  went  to  the  Park,  and  twice 
a  day  they  came  to  hear  him. 

A  congregation  moved  by  deeper  religious  feeling  than  that 
which  agitated  Edinburgh  was  anxious  to  hear  his  voice  in  a 
little  village  called  Cambuslang,  on  the  south  side  of  the  Clyde, 
about  five  miles  from  Glasgow,  and  now  a  suburb  of  that  city. 
Wonderful  things  were  beginning  to  take  place  in  that  small 
parish  of  nine  hundred  souls.  The  Rev.  William  McCulloch, 
who  had  been  ordained  its  minister  on  April  29,  1731,  was  a 


CAMBUSLANG  REVIVAL  187 

man  of  considerable  learning  and  of  solid,  unostentatious  piety, 
slow  and  cautious  as  a  speaker,  and  more  anxious  to  feed  his 
people  with  sound  truth  than  to  move  their  passions  with 
declamation.  The  news  of  the  revivals  in  England  and 
America  had  awakened  a  lively  interest  in  him  ;  he  began  to 
detail  to  his  people  what  he  knew,  and  they,  in  their  turn,  felt 
as  interested  as  he  did.  A  dilapidated  church  and  an  over- 
flowing congregation  next  compelled  the  good  pastor  and  his 
flock  to  resort  to  the  fields  for  worship;  and  nature,  as  if 
anticipating  their  wants,  had  made  a  fair  temple  of  her  own  in 
a  deep  ravine  near  the  church.  The  grassy  level  by  the  burn- 
side,  and  the  brae  which  rises  from  it  in  the  form  of  an  amphi- 
theatre, afforded  an  admirable  place  for  the  gathering  of  a 
large  mass  of  people  ;  and  there  the  pastor  would  preach  the 
same  doctrines  which  were  touching  rugged  Kingswood  colliers, 
depraved  London  roughs,  and  formal  ministers  and  professors 
of  religion  in  both  hemispheres ;  but  he  dwelt  mostly  on 
regeneration.  The  sermon  over,  he  would  recount  on  a 
Sabbath  evening  what  was  going  on  in  the  kingdom  of  God 
elsewhere,  and  then  renew  his  application  of  truth  to  the  con- 
science. The  great  evangelist  had  also  been  heard  by  some  of 
the  people  ;  nor  could  they  forget  his  words,  or  throw  off  their 
influence.  On  his  previous  visit  to  Scotland,  when  he  went  to 
Glasgow,  they  had  stood  on  the  gravestones  of  the  high 
churchyard  in  that  immense  congregation  which  trembled  and 
wept  as  he  denounced  the  curses  and  offered  the  blessings  of 
the  word  of  God.  Others,  again,  had  read  the  sermons  after 
they  were  printed,  and  had  been  as  vitally  affected  as  if  they 
had  heard  the  thrilling  voice  which  had  spoken  them.  The 
religious  leaven  was  touching  the  whole  body  of  the  people ; 
and  at  the  end  of  January,  1742,  five  months  before  White- 
field's  second  visit  to  Scotland,  Ingram  More,  a  shoemaker, 
and  Robert  Bowman,  a  weaver,  carried  a  petition  round  the 


1 88  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

parish,  praying  the  minister  to  set  up  a  weekly  lecture,  and 
ninety  heads  of  families  signed  it.  The  day  which  was  most 
convenient  for  the  temporal  interests  of  the  parish  was  Thurs- 
day, and  on  Thursday  a  lecture  was  given.  Then  wounded 
souls  began  to  call  at  the  manse  to  ask  for  counsel  and  com- 
fort, and  at  last,  after  one  of  the  Thursday  lectures,  fifty  of 
them  went ;  and  all  that  night  the  faithful  pastor  was  engaged 
in  his  good  work.  Next  came  a  daily  sermon,  followed  by 
private  teaching,  exhortation,  and  prayer  ;  and  before  White- 
field  got  there  to  increase  the  intense  feeling  and  honest  con- 
viction which  were  abroad,  three  hundred  souls,  according  to 
the  computation  of  Mr.  McCulloch,  '  had  been  awakened  and 
convinced  of  their  perishing  condition  without  a  Saviour,  more 
than  two  hundred  of  whom  were,  he  believed,  hopefully 
converted  and  brought  home  to  God.'  The  congregations  on 
the  hillside  had  also  increased  to  nine  or  ten  thousand.  All 
the  work  of  preaching  and  teaching  did  not  devolve  upon  one 
man ;  ministers  from  far  and  near  came  to  see  and  wonder  and 
help.  Great  care  was  taken  by  them  all  to  hinder  hypocrisy 
and  delusion  from  spreading ;  and  indeed  the  work,  as  examined 
by  faithful  men,  presented  every  appearance  of  a  work  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  It  embraced  all  classes,  all  ages,  and  all  moral 
conditions.  Cursing,  swearing,  and  drunkenness  were  given  up 
by  those  who  had  been  guilty  of  these  sins,  and  who  had  come 
under  its  power.  It  kindled  remorse  for  acts  of  injustice.  It 
compelled  restitution  for  fraud.  It  won  forgiveness  from  the 
revengeful.  It  imparted  patience  and  love  to  endure  the 
injuries  of  enemies.  It  bound  pastors  and  people  together 
with  a  stronger  bond  of  sympathy.  It  raised  an  altar  in  the 
household,  or  kindled  afresh  the  extinguished  fire  of  domestic 
religion.  It  made  men  students  of  the  word  of  God,  and 
brought  them  in  thought  and  purpose  and  effort  into  com- 
munion with  their  Father  in  heaven.     True,  there  was  chaff 


CAMBUSLANG  REVIVAL  189 

among  the  wheat,  but  the  watchfulness  and  wisdom  of  the 
minister  detected  it,  and  quickly  drove  it  away.  And  for  long 
years  afterwards  humble  men  and  women,  who  dated  their  con- 
version from  the  work  at  Cambuslang,  walked  among  their 
neighbours  with  an  unspotted  Christian  name,  and  then  died 
peacefully  and  joyfully  in  the  arms  of  One  whom  they  had 
learned  in  revival  days  to  call  Lord  and  Saviour. 

The  most  remarkable  thing  in  the  whole  movement  is  an 
absence  of  terrible  experiences.  The  great  sorrow  which 
swelled  penitential  hearts  was  not  selfish,  and  came  from  no 
fear  of  future  punishment,  but  from  a  sense  of  the  dishonour 
they  had  done  to  God  and  their  Redeemer.  The  influence  of 
the  Cambuslang  meetings  was  at  work  in  many  a  parish,  and 
Whitefield's  first  ride  from  Edinburgh  into  the  west  was  through 
places  where  the  greatest  commotion  was  visible.  When  he 
came  to  Cambuslang  he  immediately  preached  to  a  vast  con- 
gregation, which,  notwithstanding  Gib's  warning  against  hearing 
sermons  on  other  days  than  the  Sabbath,  had  come  together  on 
a  Tuesday  at  noon.  At  six  in  the  evening  he  preached  again, 
and  a  third  time  at  nine.  No  doubt  the  audience  on  the  brae- 
side  was  much  the  same  at  each  service,  and  we  are  prepared  to 
hear  that  by  eleven  at  night  the  enthusiasm  had  reached  its 
highest  pitch.  For  an  hour  and  a  half  the  loud  weeping  of  the 
company  filled  the  stillness  of  the  summer  night,  while  now  and 
again  the  cry  of  some  strong  man,  or  more  susceptible  woman, 
rang  above  the  preacher's  voice  and  the  general  wailing,  and 
there  was  a  swaying  to  and  fro  where  the  wrounded  one  fell. 
Often  the  word  would  take  effect  like  shot  piercing  a  regiment 
of  soldiers,  and  the  congregation  was  broken  again  and  again. 
It  was  a  very  field  of  battle,  as  Whitefield  himself  has  described 
it.  Helpers  carried  the  agonised  into  the  house,  and,  as  they 
passed,  the  crying  of  those  whom  they  bore  moved  all  hearts 
with  fresh  emotion,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  word  to  make 


19°  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

fresh  triumphs.  When  Whitefield  ended  his  sermon,  McCulloch 
took  his  place,  and  preached  till  past  one  in  the  morning; 
and  even  then  the  people  were  unwilling  to  leave  the  spot. 
Many  walked  the  fields  all  night,  praying  and  singing,  the 
sound  of  their  voices  much  rejoicing  the  heart  of  Whitefield 
as  he  lay  awake  in  the  neighbouring  manse. 

The  following  Sunday  was  sacrament  day,  and  he  hurried 
back  to  Edinburgh  to  do  some  work  there,  before  joining  in 
the  great  and  solemn  ceremony.  He  says  that  there  was  such 
a  shock  in  Edinburgh  on  Thursday  night  and  Friday  morning 
as  he  had  never  felt  before.  On  Friday  night  he  came  to 
Cambuslang,  and  on  Saturday  he  preached  to  more  than 
twenty  thousand  people.  Sabbath,  however,  was  the  day  of 
days.  New  converts  had  looked  forward  to  it  as  the  time 
of  their  first  loving  confession  of  their  Redeemer,  and  aged 
Christians  were  assembled  with  the  freshness  of  their  early 
devotion  upon  them.  Godly  pastors  had  come  from  neighbour- 
ing and  also  from  distant  places  to  assist  in  serving  the  tables, 
and  to  take  part  in  prayer  and  exhortation.  All  around  the 
inner  group  of  believers  who  were  to  partake  of  the  sacrament 
for  a  remembrance  of  our  Lord  was  a  mighty  host,  scarcely 
less  earnest  or  less  outwardly  devout.  Two  tents  were  erected 
in  the  glen  ;  seventeen  hundred  '  tokens '  were  issued  to  those 
who  wished  to  communicate.  The  tables  stood  under  the 
brae,  and  when  Whitefield  began  to  serve  one  of  them  the 
people  so  crowded  upon  him  that  he  was  obliged  to  desist  and 
go  to  one  of  the  tents  to  preach.  All  through  the  day,  preaching 
by  one  or  another  never  ceased ;  and  at  night,  when  the  last 
communicant  had  partaken,  all  the  companies,  still  unwearied, 
and  still  ready  to  hear,  met  in  one  congregation,  and  Whitefield, 
at  the  request  of  the  ministers,  preached  to  them.  His  sermon 
was  an  hour  and  a  half  long,  and  the  twenty  thousand  were 
not  tired  of  hearing  it. 


CAMBUSLANG  REVIVAL  191 

Such  a  day  might  well  have  been  followed  by  quietness  and 
repose,  but  his  was  no  heart  to  cry  for  leisure,  whatever  his 
body  might  do.  The  following  Monday  was  sure  to  be  just 
such  a  day  as  he  could  most  thoroughly  enjoy,  for  the  day 
after  communion  Sunday  has  had  among  Presbyterians  almost 
more  sanctity  than  the  Sunday  itself.  Preachers  have  preached 
their  most  effective  sermons  on  that  day,  and  it  was  a  memor- 
able time  at  Cambuslang.  'The  motion,'  Whitefield  says, 
'fled  as  swift  as  lightning  from  one  end  of  the  auditory  to 
another.  You  might  have  seen  thousands  bathed  in  tears. 
Some  at  the  same  time  wringing  their  hands,  others  almost 
swooning,  and  others  crying  out  and  mourning  over  a  pierced 
Saviour.     It  was  like  the  Passover  in  Josiah's  time.' 

The  sermon  preached  by  him  on  the  Sunday  night  was  upon 
Isa.  liv.  5 — '  For  thy  Maker  is  thy  husband ' — and  was  a  sermon 
more  frequently  referred  to  by  his  converts  than  any  other  ; 
yet  we  look  in  vain  for  a  single  passage  of  interest  or  power  in 
it.  The  thought  is  meagre  and  the  language  tame  ;  there  is 
a  total  absence  of  the  dramatic  element  which  abounds  in  all 
his  treatment  of  narrative  and  parable.  But,  remembering 
how  perfectly  his  heart  realised  the  idea  of  union  with  God, 
and  how  intense  was  his  personal  devotion  to  the  will  of  God, 
it  becomes  easier  to  understand  the  unfailing  unction  with 
which  his  common  thoughts  were  clothed.  He  could  hardly 
fail  to  have  power,  when  entreating  sinners  to  yield  to  God  and 
be  joined  to  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  could  say,  without  affectation 
or  boast,  '  The  hopes  of  bringing  more  souls  to  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  only  consideration  that  can  reconcile  me  to  life.  For 
this  cause  I  can  willingly  stay  long  from  my  wished-for  home, 
my  wished-for  Jesus.  But  whither  am  I  going  ?  I  forget  my- 
self when  writing  of  Jesus.     His  love  fills  my  soul.' 

His  qualities  of  meekness  and  self-restraint  were  as  hardly 
tested  by  the  meddlesomeness  of  would-be  advisers  as  by  the 


k;2  GEORGE   WH1TEFIELD 

blind  rage  of  enemies.  Willison,  of  Dundee,  a  minister  of 
the  Kirk,  was  jealous  over  him  on  two  points  :  first,  as  to  the 
question  of  episcopacy  ;  and  secondly,  as  to  his  habits  of 
private  devotion.  As  to  the  first,  Whitefield  told  his  corre- 
spondent that  he  thought  his  '  letter  breathed  much  of  a 
sectarian  spirit,'  and  with  his  wonted  charity  added  : — 

'  To  which  I  hoped  dear  Mr.  Willison  was  quite  averse.     As  for  my 

answer  to  Mr.  M ,  dear  sir,  it  is  very  satisfying  to  my  own  soul.   Morning 

and  evening  retirement  is  certainly  exceeding  good  ;  but  if  through  weakness 
of  body,  or  frequency  of  preaching,  I  cannot  go  to  God  in  my  usual  set  times, 
I  think  my  spirit  is  not  in  bondage.  It  is  not  for  me  to  tell  how  often  I  use 
secret  prayer  ;  if  I  did  not  use  it,  nay,  if  in  one  sense  I  did  not  pray  without 
ceasing,  it  would  be  difficult  for  me  to  keep  up  that  frame  of  soul  which, 
by  the  Divine  blessing,  I  daily  enjoy.  If  the  work  of  God  prospers,  and 
your  hands  become  more  full,  you  will  then,  dear  sir,  know  better  what 
I  mean.'1 

As  soon  as  news  of  the  Cambuslang  work  came  from  the 
west,  the  Seceders  called  a  Presbytery,  which,  with  a  prompti- 
tude that  showed  their  prejudices  and  condemned  their  act 
as  rash  and  ignorant,  appointed  a  fast  for  the  diabolical 
delusion  which  had  seized  the  people.  The  notions  of  Gib 
were  evidently  highly  popular;  for  between  the  nth  of 
July  and  the  15th — the  date  of  the  act  of  the  Presbytery — 
no  examination  of  the  work  could  have  been  made.    Whitefield 


1  What  would  Willison  have  thought  of  Whitefield,  if  he  had  heard  the 
following  vagabond  anecdote,  which  ought  to  be  true,  if  it  is  not?  Some 
time  after  the  quarrel  upon  the  five  points  between  Wesley  and  Whitefield, 
and  their  happy  reconciliation,  the  two  combatants  slept  together  in  the 
same  bed  (Methodist  preachers  sometimes  slept  three  in  a  bed  !),  at  the 
close  of  a  toilsome  day.  Wesley  knelt  down  and  prayed  before  lying 
down  to  rest,  but  Whitefield  threw  himself  upon  the  bed  at  once.  '  George,' 
said  Wesley  in  a  reproachful  tone,  '  is  that  your  Calvinism  ? '  During  the 
night  Whitefield  awoke,  and  found  his  friend  fast  asleep  on  his  knees  by 
the  bedside  ;  rousing  him  up,  he  said  :   'John,  is  that  your  Arminianism  ?' 


A   FAST  FOR    THE   REVIVAL  193 

expressed    himself    with    much    composure    in    a    letter    to   a 
friend  : — 

'The  Messrs.  Erskine,'  he  says,  'and  their  adherents,  would  you  think 
it  ?  have  appointed  a  public  fast  to  humble  themselves,  among  other  things, 
for  my  being  received  in  Scotland,  and  for  the  delusion,  as  they  term  it, 
at  Cambuslang,  and  other  places ;  and  all  this  because  I  would  not  consent 
to  preach  only  for  them,  till  I  had  light  into,  and  could  take,  the  Solemn 
League  and  Covenant.  But  to  what  lengths  may  prejudice  carry  even 
good  men  !  From  giving  way  to  the  first  risings  of  bigotry  and  a  party 
spirit,  good  Lord,  deliver  us  ! ' 

And  the  charity  of  this  large-hearted  man  was  not  words 
on  paper;  he  could  believe  in  the  goodness  of  another,  in 
spite  of  personal  wrong  done  to  himself,  and  wait  with  full 
confidence  the  time  when  evil  should  be  overcome  with  good 
Soon  after  the  fast,  which  was  proclaimed  from  Dunfermline, 
he  had  a  short  interview  with  Ralph  Erskine,  and  brotherly- 
love  so  prevailed  that  they  embraced  each  other,  and  Ralph 
said,  '  We  have  seen  strange  things.'  Whitefield's  faith  in  the 
power  of  love  to  bring  brethren  to  a  right  state  of  mind  was 
justified  even  in  the  case  of  violent  Adam  Gib,  who,  when  an 
old  man,  confessed  to  his  nephew  that  he  wished  that  no 
copies  of  his  pamphlet  against  Whitefield  were  on  the  face 
of  the  earth,  and  that,  if  he  knew  how  to  recall  them,  every 
copy  should  be  obtained  and  burnt  :  '  My  blood  at  that  time 
was  too  hot,'  said  he,  'and  I  was  unable  to  write  with  becoming 
temper. 

The  strain  made  upon  Whitefield  by  his  exhausting  labours 
brought  back  again  the  spasms  of  sickness  with  which  he  had 
been  so  frequently  seized  in  America.  Writing  to  one  of  his 
friends,  he  said  :  '  Last  night  some  of  my  friends  thought  I 
was  going  off;  but  how  did  Jesus  fill  my  heart!  To-day 
I  am,  as  they  call  it,  much  better.  In  less  than  a  month  we 
are  to  have  another  sacrament  at  Cambuslang — a  thing  not 

14 


]94  GEORGE   WHITE  EI  ELD 

practised  before  in  Scotland.  I  entreat  all  to  pray  in  an 
especial  manner  for  a  blessing  at  that  time.'  A  fortnight  later, 
when  he  had  got  to  Cambuslang  and  shared  in  the  much- 
desired  sacrament,  he  said :  '  My  bodily  strength  is  daily 
renewed,  and  I  mount  on  the  wings  of  faith  and  love  like  an 
eagle.'  This  second  celebration  was  more  remarkable  than 
even  the  first.     It  came  about  in  this  wise. 

Soon  after  the  first  celebration,  Webster,  of  Edinburgh,  pro- 
posed that  there  should  be  a  second  on  an  early  day,  and 
Whitefield  seconded  him.  McCulloch  liked  the  proposal,  but 
must  confer  with  his  people  before  giving  an  answer.  The 
several  meetings  for  prayer  were  informed  of  it,  and  they, 
after  supplication  and  deliberation,  thought  it  best  to  favour 
it.  It  was  therefore  resolved  to  dispense  the  Lord's  Supper 
again  on  August  15th.  Meanwhile  prayer-meetings  were 
arranged  for  through  the  whole  of  the  intervening  month. 
Communicants  came  from  distant  as  well  as  neighbouring 
places,  from  Edinburgh  and  Kilmarnock,  from  Irvine  and 
Stewarton,  and  some  even  from  England  and  Ireland.  Great 
numbers  of  Quakers  came  to  be  hearers — not  partakers, 
of  course — so,  too,  did  many  of  the  Secession,  and  some  of 
the  latter  went  to  the  table.  Ministers  arrived  from  Edinburgh, 
Glasgow,  Kilsyth,  Kinglassie,  Irvine,  Douglas,  Blantyre,  Ruther- 
glen,  and  Cathcart.  Old  Mr.  Bonar,  of  Torphichen,  who  took 
three  days  to  ride  eighteen  miles,  was  determined  to  be  present, 
and  when  helped  up  to  one  of  the  tents  which  had  been 
pitched,  preached  three  times  with  much  energy  ;  he  returned 
home  with  the  '  Nunc  Dimittis '  on  his  lips.  Between  thirty 
and  forty  thousand  people  were  gathered  in  the  glen  on  the 
Sunday,  and  of  these  three  thousand  communicated.1     The 

1  It  will  help  us  to  understand  how  widespread  was  the  religious  work  at 
this  time,  if  we  remember  that  the  population  of  Glasgow  was  about  twenty 
thousand.    Had  every  man,  woman,  and  child  gone  from  the  city  and  joined 


THE  COMMUNION  AT  CAMBUSLANG  195 

energy  of  the  truth  which  was  all  day  long  preached  by  several 
ministers  in  different  parts  was  so  great  that  possibly  a  thousand 
more  would  have  done  so  if  they  could  have  had  access  to 
procure  tokens.  The  staff  of  ministers  were  assisted  at  the 
tables  by  several  elders  of  rank  and  distinction.  There  was 
not  wanting  that  power  which  perhaps  must,  if  not  all,  had 
come  hoping  to  find.  Whitefield  himself  was  in  a  visible 
ecstasy  as  he  stood  in  the  evening  serving  some  tables ;  and 
at  ten  at  night,  his  great  audience  in  the  churchyard  could 
heed  only  his  words,  though  the  weather,  which  had  been 
favourable  all  day,  had  broken,  and  it  rained  fast.  On  the 
following  morning,  at  seven  o'clock,  Webster  preached  with 
immense  effect,  and  Whitefield  followed  in  the  same  manner 
later  in  the  day. 

The  greater  the  work  the  hotter  the  opposition  and  the  more 
furious  the  denunciations  of  opponents.  The  Seceders  _were 
running  greater  and  greater  lengths  in  misguided  zeal,  and 
were  beginning  to  split  among  themselves.  This  was  a  chance 
for  the  Kirk  presbyters,  some  of  whom  had  no  love  for  the 
prelatist,  excepting  as  he  fortified  their  falling  Church,  to 
launch  out  at  him  ;  and  they  began  to  call  to  account  some 
of  the  ministers  who  had  employed  him.  The  Cameronians, 
who  rallied  round  the  blue  flag  of  the  Covenant,  rivalled  in 
a  '  Declaration  '  the  '  Act '  of  the  Associate  Presbytery.  They 
called  their  document  '  The  Declaration,  Protestation,  and 
Testimony  of  the  Suffering  Remnant  of  the  anti-Popish,  anti- 
Lutheran,  anti-Prelatic,  anti-Whitefieldian,  anti-Erastian,  anti- 
Sectarian,  true  Presbyterian   Church    of   Christ  in    Scotland. 

the  people  of  Cambuslang,  the  whole  would  not  have  made  more  than 
two-thirds  of  one  of  the  congregations  assembled  to  hear  Whitefield  in  that 
village.  In  many  of  the  neighbouring  places,  notably  Kilsyth,  under  the 
fostering  care  of  that  wise  and  devout  minister,  James  Robe,  a  similar  work 
of  grace  was  proceeding. 


1 96  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Published  against  Mr.  George  Whitefield  and  his  encouragers, 
and  against  the  work  at  Cambuslang  and  other  places ; ' 
and  the  ignorance  and  injustice  of  the  declaration  amply  sus- 
tained its  pugnacious  title. 

A  more  crafty  way  of  damaging  his  reputation  and  impeding 
his  work  was  hit  upon  by  one  or  more  persons  in  America, 
who  wrote  to  friends  in  Scotland  what  they  pretended  to  be 
true  accounts  of  the  condition  of  religion  in  New  England. 
One  of  the  letters  was  written  to  a  minister  in  Glasgow,  and 
another  to  Mr.  George  Wishart,  one  of  the  ministers  of  Edin- 
burgh. Both  letters  were  published  without  the  names  of 
their  writers,  and  were  offered  for  public  acceptance,  the  one 
upon  the  word  of  its  publisher,  the  other  upon  the  word  of 
Wishart.  The  first  was  deemed  worthy  of  an  answer,  which 
Whitefield  wrote  at  Cambuslang,  where  he  had  fixed  his  head- 
quarters for  some  time,  and  whence  he  made  constant  excur- 
sions to  places  that  wanted  his  services.  Its  authority  was 
effectually  shattered  when  Whitefield  pointed  out  that,  if  it 
had  come  from  America  at  all,  it  had  been  tampered  with 
since  its  arrival ;  for  reference  was  made  in  it  to  a  sermon 
published  in  London  on  May  ist;  yet  the  letter  itself  was 
written  on  May  24th,  and  no  mode  of  transit  in  those  days 
was  swift  enough  to  carry  news  across  the  Atlantic  and  back 
in  twenty-three  days.  The  letters  were,  indeed,  more  of  an 
assault  upon  Whitefield,  through  Tennent,  than  of  an  attempt 
to  assail  him  through  his  own  work.  The  letter  bearing 
Wishart's  imprimatur  only  repeated  the  old  cry,  that  Whitefield 
had  taken  people  from  their  business,  and  filled  every  one's 
mouth  with  talk  about  religion :  its  real  attack  was  upon 
Tennent,  and  his  work  and  friends,  only  the  people  in  Scotland 
were  asked  to  regard  Whitefield  in  the  same  light.  Whitefield 
summed  the  whole  manner  up  in  a  manly,  impartial  paragraph. 
He  says : — 


ENEMIES  197 

'  There  has  been  a  great  and  marvellous  work  in  New  England  ;  but,  as 
it  should  seem,  by  the  imprudences  of  some,  and  the  over-boiling  zeal  of 
others,  some  irregularities  have  been  committed  in  several  places,  which 
Mr.  Tennent  himself,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Parsons,  printed  in  the  Boston 
Gazette,  has  borne  his  testimony  against  as  strongly  as  any  of  these  eminent 
ministers.  This  is  nothing  but  what  is  common.  It  was  so  in  old  England 
some  few  years  ago.  Many  young  persons  there  ran  out  before  they  were 
called  ;  others  were  guilty  of  great  imprudences.  I  checked  them  in  l he- 
strictest  manner  myself,  and  found,  as  they  grew  acquainted  with  the  Lord 
Jesus  and  their  own  hearts,  the  intemperance  of  their  zeal  abated,  and  they 
became  truly  humble  walkers  with  God.  But  must  the  whole  work  of  God 
be  condemned  as  enthusiasm  and  delusion  because  of  some  disorder  ? '  * 

The  opposition  to  Whitefield  was  of  various  kinds.  Some 
sincere  souls  were  anxious  for  pure  religion,  which  they  con- 
founded with  their  familiar,  quiet  services  ;  some  put  Church 
government  in  too  high  a  position  relative  to  spiritual  religion; 
some  were  angry,  disappointed,  and  envious,  they  would  gladly 
have  had  a  monopoly  of  the  preaching  they  bitterly  assailed  ; 
and,  in  the  dark  background,  were  some  who  hated  the  preacher 
and  his  message,  and  struck  at  him  with  a  deadly  malignity. 
How  strong  in  the  grace  of  God  must  the  man  have  been  who 
never  quailed  before  the  storm,  never  became  bitter,  and  never 
allowed  his  labours  for  men's  salvation  to  relax  in  the  least 
degree  ! 

The  labour  of  defending     is  work,  as  well  as  doing  it,  was 

1  How  much  Tennent  himself  was  sobered  in  judgment  upon  some 
questions,  though  not  at  all  in  his  way  of  expressing  himself,  appears  in  a 
letter  published  in  the  Boston  Evening  Post,  July  26,  1742.  He  says  : 
'  The  late  method  of  setting  up  separate  meetings  upon  the  supposed 
unregeneracy  of  pastors  in  places  is  enthusiastical,  proud,  schismatical. 
All  that  fear  God  ought  to  oppose  it  as  a  most  dangerous  engine  to  bring 
the  Churches  into  the  most  damnable  errors  and  confusions.  The  practice 
of  openly  exposing  ministers,  who  are  supposed  to  be  unconverted,  in 
public  discourses,  by  particular  application  of  such  times  and  places,  serves 
only  to  pmvoke  them,  instead  of  doing  them  good,  and  to  declare  our  own 
arrogance." 


198  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

not  all  left  in  Whitefield's  hands.  Webster,  of  Edinburgh, 
vindicated  the  work  in  the  west  of  Scotland  with  great  calm- 
ness and  charity  towards  adversaries.  His  words,  after  those 
of  the  Cameronians  and  Associate  Presbyterians,  were  like 
summer  breezes  after  an  east  wind.  Jonathan  Edwards  also 
wrote  his  '  Thoughts  on  the  Present  Revival  in  New  Eng- 
land,' &c. 

The  short  retirement  which  Whitefield  managed  to  snatch 
from  the  revival  work  was  devoted  to  domestic  concerns,  as 
well  as  to  the  defence  of  preaching  and  its  fruits.  His  mother 
had  sought  a  temporary  home  in  his  house  at  Bristol — probably 
his  sister's  house  had  come  into  his  possession — and  the  event 
so  delighted  him  that  he  must  write  to  welcome  her  as  if  he 
had  been  present : — 

'  Honoured  Mother, — I  rejoice  to  hear  that  you  have  been  so  long  under 
my  roof.  Blessed  be  God  that  I  have  a  house  for  my  honoured  mother  to 
come  to.  You  are  heartily  welcome  to  anything  my  house  affords  as  long 
as  you  please.  I  am  of  the  same  mind  now  as  formerly.  If  need  was, 
indeed,  these  hands  should  administer  to  your  necessities.  I  had  rather 
want  myself  than  you  should.  I  shall  be  highly  pleased  when  I  come  to 
Bristol  and  find  you  sitting  in  your  youngest  son's  house.  O  that  I  may 
sit  with  you  in  the  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the  heavens  ! 
Ere  long  your  doom,  honoured  mother,  will  be  fixed.  You  must  shortly 
go  hence  and  be  no  more  seen.  Your  only  daughter,  I  trust,  is  now  in  the 
paradise  of  God:  methinks  I  hear  her  say,  "Mother,  come  up  hither." 
Jesus,  I  am  sure,  calls  you  in  His  word.  May  His  Spirit  enable  you  to 
say,  "  Lord,  lo  I  come."  .   .  .' 

The  orphans  were  still  a  great,  though  pleasant  burden, 
troubles  having  overtaken  the  institution  from  two  sources. 
The  magistrates  had'  been  acting  with  a  high  hand  both 
towards  the  masters  and  the  children,  but  General  Oglethorpe 
had  proved  a  warm  and  useful  friend.  The  Spaniards  had 
also  raided  the  coast,  and  the  orphans  had  to  be  carried  to  a 
place  of  safety.     News  of  these  alarms  and  troubles  came  with 


ORPHANAGE  ACCOUNTS  199 

successive  posts,  and  he  had  to  wait  for  reassuring  letters.     In 
the  long  suspense  he  kept  a  quiet  mind. 

His  philanthropic  effort  laid  him  open  to  all  kinds  of 
assaults.  In  America  and  at  home  the  money  was  in  every 
enemy's  mouth.  Accordingly,  one  of  his  last  works  was  to 
write  'A  Continuation  of  the  Account  of  the  Orphan-house  in 
Georgia,'  and  to  give  a  statement  of  his  disbursements  and 
receipts.  The  latter  was  satisfactory  ;  and  from  the  former  we 
learn  that  the  workmen  were  all  discharged,  having  fulfilled 
their  contract,  and  carried  on  the  work  so  far  as  to  make  every 
part  of  the  house  habitable  ;  that  the  stock  of  cattle  was  some- 
thing considerable,  and  in  a  flourishing  condition ;  that  the 
last  Parliament  had  resolved  to  support  the  colony  of  Georgia  ; 
that  they  had  altered  its  constitution  in  two  material  points, 
namely,  these  :  they  had  allowed  the  importation  of  rum,  and 
free  titles  to  the  lands  ;  and  that  if  they  should  see  good  here- 
after to  grant  a  limited  use  of  Negroes,  it  must  certainly,  in  all 
outward  appearance,  be  as  flourishing  a  colony  as  South 
Carolina,  but  that  in  the  meantime  a  tolerable  shift  might  be 
made  with  white  servants.  Hunting  and  shooting  for  much  of 
their  food,  killing  some  of  their  own  stock,  growing  their  own 
vegetables,  helped  by  the  kindness  of  nearly  all  around  them, 
and  receiving  constant  remittances  from  England,  the  inmates 
of  the  orphan-house  were  always  provided  for.  Whitefield's 
faith  that  God  would  not  see  them  want  was  never  put  to 
shame  ;  and  he  delighted  to  tell  how  the  house  had  answered 
to  its  motto,  the  burning  bush,  which,  though  on  fire,  was 
never  consumed. 

Winter  was  coming  on  fast,  and  it  was  time  for  Whitefield 
to  think  of  returning  to  London  to  the  only  chapel  which  he 
could  call  his  own ;  in  all  other  places  he  was  dependent  upon 
other  clergymen,  and,  failing  their  support,  must  betake  him- 
self to  Nonconformist  chapels  or  to  the  fields.     At  the  end  of 


2oo  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

October  he  took  horse,  and  rode  post  from  Edinburgh  to 
London  in  less  than  five  days.  The  city  he  left  was  now  very 
dear  to  him  :  the  writing  its  name  would  make  him  say,  '  O 
Edinburgh!  Edinburgh!  I  think  I  shall  never  forget  thee!' 
He  passed  from  a  great  contention  with  heart  as  peaceful  as 
ever  rested  in  human  bosom.  He  went  chastened  and 
humbled  to  Scotland  ;  he  returned  in  the  power  of  quietness 
and  confidence,  persuaded  that  his  was  not  the  task  of  doing 
anything  but  preach  the  Lord  Jesus,  as  he  knew  and  loved 
Him.  He  had  tried  the  disputing  way  in  the  Arminian 
struggle,  and  the  quiet  way  in  the  Scotch  contendings,  and 
found  the  latter  far  preferable  to  the  former.  No  small 
influence  among  men  was  justly  in  store  for  one  who,  feeling 
that  disputing  embitters  the  spirit,  ruffles  the  soul,  and  hinders 
it  from  hearing  the  still,  small  voice  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  could 
say,  as  Whitefield  did  to  Wesley,  with  whom  he  was  now  on 
the  best  of  terms,  but  quoting  Wesley's  own  words  to  himself, 
'  Let  the  King  live  for  ever,  and  controversy  die.'  '  I  care  not,' 
he  said  to  another  friend,  '  if  the  name  of  George  Whitefield 
be  banished  out  of  the  world,  so  that  Jesus  be  exalted  in  it.' 

On  his  arrival  in  London  he  found  the  Tabernacle  enlarged 
and  'a  new  awakening  begun.'  In  his  winter  quarters,  as  he 
called  them,  he  found  himself  as  busy  as  he  had  been  on  the 
common  and  in  the  market-place.  He  worked  from  morning 
till  midnight ;  and  was  carried  through  the  duties  of  each  day 
with  cheerfulness  and  almost  uninterrupted  tranquillity.  The 
society  was  large  and  in  good  order,  and  daily  improvements 
were  made. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  the  congregation  began  to  be 
sprinkled  with  visitors  of  distinction.  Hitherto,  Whitefield's 
intercourse  with  the  nobility  had  been  confined  to  those  of 
Scotland,  but  now  English  peers  and  peeresses,  led  by  the 
Earl  and   Countess  of  Huntingdon,  and  by  the  Earl's  sisters, 


NOBLES  AT   THE   TABERNACLE  201 

the  Ladies  Hastings,  began  to  mingle  with  the  humbler  orders, 
among  whom  his  efforts  had  won  such  astonishing  success. 
The  low,  wooden  Tabernacle  was  sometimes,  during  this  winter 
of  1742,  entered  by  the  Duke  of  Cumberland,  the  'hero  of 
Culloden,'  and  by  Frederick,  Prince  of  Wales.  Lord  Hervey, 
too,  wretched  in  health,  which  he  supported  by  drinking  asses' 
milk,  his  ghastly  countenance  covered  with  rouge,  would  some- 
times sit  on  its  benches.  The  Duke  of  Bolton,  Lord  Lonsdale, 
and  Lord  Sidney  Beauclerk,  who  hunted  the  fortunes  of  the 
old  and  childless,  but  is  best  known  as  the  father  of  Dr. 
Johnson's  friend,  Topham  Beauclerk,  also  came.  Most 
remarkable  of  all  was  the  haughty  face  of  the  Duchess  of 
Marlborough,  'great  Atossa — 

'  Who  with  herself,  or  others,  from  her  birth 
Finds  all  her  life  one  warfare  upon  earth. 
Shines,  in  exposing  knaves,  and  painting  fools, 
Yet  is  whate'er  she  hates  and  ridicules  !  ' 

Her  letters  to  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon  are  very 
characteristic  of  her  pride  and  revenge ;  they  show  also  that 
she  did  want  to  be  good,  but  not  to  give  up  being  wicked. 
She  says  : — 

'  My  dear  Lady  Huntingdon  is  always  so  very  good  to  me,  and  I  really 
do  feel  very  sensibly  all  your  kindness  and  attention,  that  I  must  accept 
your  very  obliging  invitation  to  accompany  you  to  hear  Mr.  Whitefield, 
though  I  am  still  suffering  from  the  effects  of  a  severe  cold.  Your  concern 
for  my  improvement  in  religious  knowledge  is  very  obliging,  and  I  do  hope 
that  I  shall  be  the  better  for  all  your  excellent  advice.  God  knows  we  all 
need  mending,  and  none  more  than  myself.  I  have  lived  to  see  great 
changes  in  the  world — have  acted  a  conspicuous  part  myself — and  now 
hope,  in  my  old  days,  to  obtain  mercy  from  God,  as  I  never  expect  any  at 
the  hands  of  my  fellow-creatures.  The  Duchess  of  Ancaster,  Lady 
Townshend,  and  Lady  Cobham  were  exceedingly  pleased  with  many 
observations  in  Mr.  Whitefield's  sermon  at  St.  Sepulchre's  Church,  which 
has  made  me  lament  ever  since  that  I  did  not  hear  it,  as  it  might  have  been 
the  means  of  doing  me  good — for  good,  alas  !  I  do  want ;  but  where  among 


202  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

the  corrupt  sons  and  daughters  of  Adam  am  I  to  find  it  ?  Your  ladyship 
must  direct  me.  You  are  all  goodness  and  kindness,  and  I  often  wish  I 
had  a  portion  of  it.  Women  of  wit,  beauty,  and  quality  cannot  hear  too 
many  humiliating  truths — they  shock  our  pride.  But  we  must  die — we 
must  converse  with  earth  and  worms. 

'  Pray  do  me  the  favour  to  present  my  humble  service  to  your  excellent 
spouse.  A  more  amiable  man  I  do  not  know  than  Lord  Huntingdon.  And 
lielieve  me,  my  dear  madam, 

'  Your  most  faithful  and  most  humble  servant, 

'  S.  Marlborough.' 


In  a  second  letter  to  the  Countess  she  says  : — 

'  When  alone,  my  reflections  and  recollections  almost  kill  me,  and  I  am 
forced  to  fly  the  society  of  those  I  detest  and  abhor.  Now,  there  is  Lady 
Frances  Saunderson's  great  rout  to-morrow  night — all  the  world  will  be 
there,  and  I  must  go.  I  do  hate  that  woman  as  much  as  I  do  hate  a 
physician  ;  but  I  must  go,  if  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  mortify  and  spite 
her.  This  is  very  wicked,  I  know,  but  I  confess  all  my  little  peccadillos  to 
you,  for  I  know  your  goodness  will  lead  you  to  be  mild  and  forgiving,  and 
perhaps  my  wicked  heart  may  gain  some  good  from  you  in  the  end. 

'  Lady  Fanny  has  my  best  wishes  for  the  success  of  her  attack  on  that 
crooked,  perverse,  little  wretch  at  Twickenham.' 

Another  occasional  hearer  at  the  Tabernacle  was  the 
Duchess  of  Buckingham,  the  rival  of  Atossa  in  pride,  but  less 
patient  than  she  under  reproof,  and  hating  Methodist  doctrines 
with  all  her  heart.  To  Lady  Huntingdon's  invitation  to  attend 
one  of  Whitefield's  services,  she  replies  : — 

'  I  thank  your  ladyship  for  the  information  concerning  Methodist 
preachers ;  their  doctrines  are  most  repulsive,  and  strongly  tinctured  with 
impertinence  and  disrespect  towards  their  superiors,  in  perpetually 
endeavouring  to  level  all  ranks,  and  do  away  with  all  distinctions.  It  is 
monstrous  to  be  told  that  you  have  a  heart  as  sinful  as  the  common 
wretches  that  crawl  on  the  earth.  This  is  highly  offensive  and  insulting  ; 
and  I  cannot  but  wonder  that  your  ladyship  should  relish  any  sentiments 
so  much  at  variance  with  high  rank  and  good  breeding.  Your  ladyship 
does  me  infinite  honour  by  your  obliging  inquiries  after  my  health.     I  shall 


ABUNDANT  LABOURS  203 

be  most  happy  to  accept  your  kind  offer  of  accompanying  me  to  hear  your 
favourite  preacher,  and  shall  await  your  arrival.  The  Duchess  of  Queens- 
berry  insists  on  my  patronising  her  on  this  occasion  ;  consequently  she  will 
be  an  addition  to  our  party.' 

The  list  of  Whitefield's  noble  hearers  is  increased  by  the 
names  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford,  Lady  Lisburne,  and  Lady 
Hinchinbroke.  With  the  exception  of  the  last  two  ladies, 
none  of  them  accepted  his  teaching  and  lived  according  to  it. 
To  gratify  their  taste  for  the  highest  oratory,  or  to  please  the 
pious  Countess  who  invited  their  attendance,  was  the  motive 
that  brought  them  to  so  strange  a  place.  l^ 

In  the  spring,  Whitefield  started  for  his  old  ground  in 
Gloucestershire,  and  found  preaching  there  to  be  like  preach- 
ing in  the  Tabernacle.  His  friends  in  the  county  had  been 
roughly  handled  of  late,  yet  he  stood  unmolested  on  a  spot  in 
Dursley  from  which  his  friend  Adams  had  been  driven  but 
the  Sunday  before.  On  Hampton  Common,  from  the  top  of 
a  knoll  named,  after  the  preacher  who  first  honoured  it  as  his 
pulpit,  '  Whitefield's  tump,'  he  preached  amid  much  solemnity 
to  a  congregation  of  ten  thousand  ;  and  when  he  stood  at 
noon  on  old  Mr.  Cole's  tump  at  Quarhouse,  it  was  an  '  alarm- 
ing time,'  and  his  soul  enjoyed  exceeding  great  liberty. 
Perhaps  the  memory  of  departed  worth  helped  to  expand  his 
susceptible  heart.  His  native  city  delighted  in  the  sound  of 
his  voice ;  and  not  until  one  o'clock  on  the  Monday  morning, 
after  he  bade  them  farewell,  before  starting  for  Wales,  could 
he  lay  his  weary  body  down  to  rest.  Sick  and  unrefreshed  he 
rose  again  at  five,  and,  mounting  horse,  rode  to  meet  a  con- 
gregation which  had  come  at  seven,  '  hoping  to  feel  the  power 
of  a  risen  Lord.'  He  read  prayers  and  preached  ;  then  rode 
on  to  Stroud,  where  he  preached  in  a  field  with  uncommon 
freedom  and  power  to  twelve  thousand  people.  At  six  in  the 
evening    he    preached    to   the    same    number   on   Hampton 


204  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Common  ;  and  still  his  word  was  with  power.  A  general 
love-feast  of  the  religious  societies  in  Hampton  was  next 
presided  over  by  him,  and  that  engagement  closed  the  day. 
All  that  he  has  to  say  about  such  abundant  labours  is  beauti- 
fully like  the  simple  loving  spirit  in  which  he  delighted  to  be 
about  '  his  Father's  business,'  '  My  soul  was  kept  close  to 
Jesus ;  my  bodily  strength  renewed  ;  and  I  went  to  bed  about 
midnight  very  cheerful  and  very  happy.'  The  next  morning 
a  congregation  of  some  thousands  was  trembling  and  rejoicing 
under  his  word  at  Uursley ;  and  at  night  he  was  in  Bristol, 
speaking  with  wonderful  power  to  a  full  congregation  at 
Smith's  Hall.  The  following  morning  he  met  as  large  a  con- 
gregation in  the  same  place,  and  then  set  out  for  Waterford,  in 
South  Wales. 

Only  three  months  previously,  January  5,  1743,  four  clergy- 
men and  three  laymen  had  met  at  the  same  place  to  confer 
together  on  the  best  way  of  organising  Welsh  Methodism. 
Whitefield  was  chosen  moderator,  and  a  plan  of  classifying  the 
various  kinds  of  workers  was  decided  upon.  This  was  the 
germ  of  Welsh  Calvinistic  Methodism,  and  in  point  of  arrange- 
ment English  Methodism,  as  organised  by  Wesley,  at  a 
conference  in  London,  eighteen  months  later,  closely  resembled 
it.  One  of  the  resolutions  passed  at  this  first  Welsh  Con- 
ference reveals  in  a  curious  way  the  relation  of  Nonconformity 
to  the  Established  Church  and  of  Methodism  to  both.  It  was 
this  :  '  That  those  brethren  who  scruple  to  receive  the  sacra- 
ment in  the  Church,  on  account  of  the  impiety  of  the 
administrators  and  the  usual  communicants  there  ;  and  among 
the  Dissenters,  on  account  of  their  lukewarmness,  should 
continue  to  receive  it  in  the  Church,  until  the  Lord  open  a 
clear  way  to  separate  from  her  communion.' 

Whitefield  had  come  to  Waterford  a  second  time  to  preside 
over  the  second  General   Association  of  Methodists  in   Wales 


WELSH  CALVINISTIC  METHODISM  205 

(April,  1743).  Judging  from  the  amount  of  business  done, 
its  members  were  gifted  with  some  capacity  for  work.  White- 
field  opened  the  Association  at  noon,  on  the  day  after  his 
arrival,  with  a  '  close  and  solemn  discourse  upon  walking  with 
God  ; '  then  they  betook  themselves  to  business,  and  despatched 
several  important  things,  among  which  was  his  appointment  to 
the  moderatorship  whenever  he  was  in  England.  There  was 
an  interval  from  seven  till  ten  o'clock,  from  which  hour  they 
worked  till  two  in  the  morning.  The  next  day  they  sat  till 
four  in  the  afternoon  ;  a  little  refreshment  followed  and  '  some 
warm  talk  about  the  things  of  God,'  and  then  Whitefield 
preached  to  them  a  sermon  upon  the  believer's  rest.  These 
— the  refreshment  for  the  body  and  the  refreshment  for  the 
soul — prepared  them  for  another  sitting,  which  lasted  until 
midnight,  when  the  whole  business  of  the  Association  was 
finished,  and  feeling  that  God  had  been  with  them  in  all  that 
they  had  done,  they  did  not  forget  to  bless  Him  for  His  help 
before  parting. 

Wales  did  honour  to  her  visitor.  At  Carmarthen,  which 
Whitefield  describes  as  '  one  of  the  greatest  and  most  polite 
places  in  Wales,'  the  justices,  who  were  assembled  at  the  great 
sessions,  desired  him  to  stay  till  they  rose,  and  they  would 
come  to  hear  him  at  the  cross.  They  came,  and  many 
thousands  with  them,  including  several  persons  of  quality. 
On  another  day,  when  he  was  crossing  Carmarthen  Bay  in  the 
ferry,  several  ships  hoisted  their  flags,  and  one  fired  a  salute. 
Yet  such  attentions  never  turned  him  from  his  great  purpose 
of  seeking  all  the  lost,  and  between  the  days  when  justices  and 
sailors  honoured  him,  he  mentions  with  satisfaction  that  at 
Jefferson  he  preached  to  a  Kingswood  congregation,  and  at 
Llassivran  to  a  Moorfields  one.  As  soon  as  London  was 
reached  he  wrote  to  his  friend  Ingham  in  Yorkshire, 
announcing   his   intention   to   stay    there   for   a   month,  and 


^06  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

in  the  holidays  once  more  to  attack  the  prince  of  darkness  in 
Moorfields ;  for,  said  he,  '  many  precious  souls  have  been 
captivated  with  Christ's  love  in  that  wicked  place  :  Jerusalem 
sinners  bring  most  glory  to  the  Redeemer.'  Besides,  there 
was  a  bond  of  sympathy  between  that  wicked  place  and 
Bethesda.  Many  a  load  of  copper,  sprinkled  here  and  there 
with  golden  guineas,  and  whitened  with  a  few  crowns  and 
shillings,  had  been  gathered  from  among  the  crowd  for  the 
orphans  ;  and  the  old  kindness  towards  the  preacher  and  his 
adopted  ones  was  not  extinct.  Moorfields  lifted  the  last  straw 
of  obligation  in  England  from  Whitefield's  back  on  the  second 
occasion  of  his  getting  free. 

The  incessant  toil  was  making  itself  felt  on  that  slim  body 
which  contained  a  spirit  of  seraphic  devotion.  In  about  three 
weeks,  he  says,  he  travelled  about  four  hundred  miles,  spent 
three  days  in  attending  two  associations,  preached  about  forty 
times,  visited  about  thirteen  towns,  and  passed  through  seven 
counties !  No  wonder  weariness  and  feebleness  hung  about 
it  for  a  time,  but  preaching  was  continued  at  the  same  rate,  the 
only  relief  being  in  the  shorter  distances  travelled.  The  loving 
heart  made  light  of  the  body's  weakness,  and  enjoyed  for  itself 
all  the  more  deeply  the  secret  consolations  which  come  from 
above.  It  became  so  full  of  heaven  that  Whitefield  sometimes 
longed  when  in  public  to  lie  down  anywhere,  that  on  his  face 
he  might  give  God  thanks  ;  and  when  in  private  he  wept  for 
hours  the  tears  of  his  consuming  love  for  his  Lord. 

'  In  perils  by  mine  own  countrymen '  was  another  experience 
through  which  he  and  his  friends  were  now  called  to  pass. 
Wiltshire  had  for  some  time  been  in  commotion  through  the 
animosity  of  several  clergymen,  and  Whitefield  felt  himself 
obliged  to  put  the  facts  before  the  Bishop  of  Sarum,  who, 
however,  does  not  seem  to  have  interfered  to  stop  the  disgrace- 
ful proceedings.     Churchwardens  and  overseers  were  strictly 


PERSECUTING    THE   METHODISTS  207 

forbidden  to  let  the  Methodists  have  anything  out  of  the  parish ; 
they  obeyed  the  clergy,  and  told  the  poor  that  they  would 
punish  them,  if  in  no  other  way  they  could  stop  them  from 
joining  the  new  sect.  Most  of  the  poor,  some  of  them  with 
large  families,  braved  the  threat,  and  suffered  for  their  con- 
stancy the  loss  of  goods  and  friends.  A  few  denied  that  they 
had  ever  been  to  meetings  ;  and  some  promised  that  they 
would  go  no  more. 

Trouble  arose  in  Wales  also,  and  Whitefield  appealed  to  the 
Bishop  of  Bangor  against  having  certain  good  people  indicted 
for  holding  a  conventicle  when  they  met  to  tell  their  religious 
experiences  to  each  other.  With  some  effect  he  urged  that  a 
continuance  of  such  treatment  must  inevitably  drive  hundreds. 
if  not  thousands,  from  the  Church,  and  compel  them  to  declare 
themselves  Dissenters. 

But  the -greatest  difficulty  was  with  the  Minchin-Hampton 
rioters,  who  were  of  the  poorer  class,  aided  and  abetted  by 
those  of  higher  rank.  Their  special  hatred  was  directed 
against  one  Adams,  a  convert  of  Whitefield's,  and  a  preacher 
to  his  neighbours,  who  proved  to  be  to  Whitefield  '  my  very 
dear,  steady  old  friend.'  On  a  July  Sunday  afternoon,  a 
hundred  of  them  came  with  their  rough  music,  forced  their 
way  into  his  house,  carried  him  to  a  skin-pit  full  of  stagnant 
water  and  the  creeping  things  which  breed  in  it,  and  threw 
him  in.  A  friend  of  his  who  expostulated  was  thrown  in 
twice,  then  beaten  and  dragged  along  the  kennel.  Adams 
quietly  returned  to  his  house  to  pray,  and  exhort  his  brethren 
to  cheerfulness  under  suffering ;  but  in  half  an  hour  the  mob, 
anxious  for  more  sport,  entered  his  house  a  second  time, 
dragged  him  downstairs,  and  led  him  to  Bourn  brook,  and 
threw  him  in  twice,  cutting  his  leg  severely  against  a  stone. 
Meanwhile  the  constable  and  justices  never  heeded  the  appeals 
made   for    their    interference,   but  countenanced   the   lawless 


2o8  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

suppression  of  Methodism.  The  clergy  was  satisfied  with  the 
outrages.  Preaching  was  for  a  time  suspended.  Whitefield 
now  consulted  with  London  friends  as  to  the  line  of  action  it 
would  be  best  to  take,  and  all  wisely  determined  to  claim  the 
protection  of  the  law.  He  and  they  moved  for  a  rule  of  Court 
in  the  King's  Bench  to  lodge  an  information  against  five  of 
the  ringleaders.  Counsel  for  the  rioters  prayed  that  the  rule 
might  be  enlarged  until  the  next  term,  and  it  was  granted.  The 
interval  was  employed  by  the  two  sides  in  a  characteristic  way; 
the  rioters  increased  their  offences,  and  the  Methodists  stirred 
up  the  liberality  of  friends  to  bear  the  expenses  of  the  trial,  and 
the  hearts  of  the  faithful  in  England,  Wales,  and  Scotland,  to 
keep  a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  for  its  right  issue. 

It  must  have  added  to  the  excitement  of  a  Methodist's 
coming  to  a  town,  in  those  days  when  '  such  great  liberty ' — on 
one  side  —'was  enjoyed  under  the  mild  and  gentle  government 
of  King  George,'  to  see  how  the  Church  and  the  roughs  would 
receive  him.  There  must  have  been  great  glee  in  the  belfry 
at  Ottery  when,  just  as  Whitefield  announced  his  text,  the 
ringers  pulled  the  ropes  and  made  the  bells  utter  a  clanging 
peal,  in  which  the  finest  voice  became  useless  as  a  whisper. 
And  there  must  have  been  profound  satisfaction  in  the 
parsonage  when  the  clergyman  told  an  admiring  circle  how 
he  had  demanded  of  the  arch-Methodist,  as  he  and  his  friends 
made  for  the  fields,  where  they  might  worship  in  peace,  his 
authority  for  preaching,  and  called  his  meeting  illegal  and  a 
riot.  The  rabble  of  Wedgbury,  too,  must  have  been  delighted 
when  a  sod  fell  on  the  reverently-bowed  head  of  Whitefield, 
and  another  struck  his  clasped  hands,  as  he  stood  among  them 
and  prayed. 

But  happily  the  clergy  and  the  blackguards,  if  united  for 
evil  in  some  places,  had  not  a  national  union.  If  Ottery  was 
inhospitable,  St.  Gennis  prayed  for  Whitefield's  coming  ;  and 


ACCIDENT  209 

his  visit  renewed  the  days  of  Cambuslang.  Exeter  also 
answered  to  his  call,  many  of  its  clergy,  and  nearly  a  third  of 
its  inhabitants,  turning  out  to  hear  him.  He  thought  that  on 
the  whole  a  healthy  change  was  passing  over  society ;  that 
prejudices  were  falling  off;  and  that  people  were  beginning  not 
only  rationally  to  discern,  but  powerfully  to  feel,  the  doctrines 
of  the  gospel. 

The  expectation  of  a  son's  being  born  to  him  now  filled  his 
heart  with  all  a  father's  pride  ;  and,  as  well  as  his  notions  of 
public  duty  would  permit,  he  was  thoughtful  for  his  wife's 
comfort  and  safety.  But  his  was  not  the  best  of  keeping  for  a 
delicate  woman  to  be  committed  to  ;  one  day  he  nearly  killed 
both  her  and  himself.  In  expectation  of  the  birth  he  restricted 
his  work  to  London  and  the  neighbourhood,  and  even  indulged 
his  domestic  affections  so  far  as  to  take  Mrs.  Whitefield  for  a 
drive,  according  to  advice.  But  he  was  a  poor  driver,  if  a  fine 
rider,  and  soon  drove  into  a  ditch  fourteen  feet  deep.  Mrs. 
Whitefield  put  her  hand  across  the  chaise,  and  thus  saved 
herself  and  him  from  being  thrown  out.  The  horse  went 
down  as  though  held  by  a  pulley,  probably  because  the  ditch 
narrowed  very  much  towards  the  bottom.  Bystanders  shouted 
out  that  they  were  killed,  and  ran  to  the  rescue  ;  one  of  them 
seized  the  horse's  head,  two  or  three  pulled  Mrs.  Whitefield 
up  the  side  of  the  ditch,  and  others,  with  a  long  whip,  drew 
the  preacher  from  the  back  of  the  horse,  on  to  which  he  had 
scrambled.  Doubtless  the  accident  broke  off  a  close  religious 
conversation  ;  for  Whitefield  says  that,  '  being  both  in  a  com- 
fortable frame,  I  must  own  to  my  shame  that  I  felt  rather 
regret  than  thankfulness  in  escaping  what  I  thought  would  be 
a  kind  of  translation  to  our  wished-for  haven.  But,  oh  amazing 
love  !  we  were  so  strengthened,  that  the  chaise  and  horse 
being  taken  up,  and  our  bruises  being  washed  with  vinegar  in 
a  neighbouring  house,  we  went  on  our  intended  way,  and  came 

15 


210  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

home  rejoicing  in  God  our  Saviour.'  It  would  appear  that  he 
never  risked  that  mode  of  translation  again. 

A  month  afterwards,  in  October,  1743,  his  son  was  born; 
and  as  soon  as  the  news  reached  him  in  the  country  to  which 
he  had  made  a  short  preaching  excursion,  he  hastened  to 
London.  When  the  infant  was  about  a  week  old,  his  father 
baptized  him  in  the  Tabernacle  in  the  presence  of  a  great 
congregation. 

The  little  one  was  not  born  in  a  sumptuous  house  ;  indeed, 
his  home  was  not  furnished  when  he  came,  and  his  father  had 
to  be  content  with  borrowed  furniture  to  complete  his  little 
stock  in  hand.  The  simple,  grateful,  humble  heart  of  the 
mighty  orator  was  just  like  itself  when  he  wrote  to  an  old 
friend  in  Gloucester :  '  This  afternoon  I  received  your  kind 
letter,  and  thank  you  a  thousand  times  for  your  great  generosity 
in  lending  me  some  furniture,  having  little  of  my  own.  I  know 
who  will  repay  you.  Next  week,  God  willing,  my  dear  wife  and 
little  one  will  come  to  Gloucester,  for  I  find  it  beyond  my  cir- 
cumstances to  maintain  them  here.  I  leave,  God  willing,  this 
day  seven-night.  My  brother  will  receive  a  letter  about  my 
wife's  coming.  She  and  the  little  one  are  brave  and  well.' 
The  child's  life  was  short  as  a  dream.  Within  three  weeks 
Whitefield  was  sitting  at  the  'Bell'  in  Gloucester,  then  his 
brother's  house,  writing  an  account  of  his  death  !  He  con- 
fessed and  deplored  his  own  need  of  the  chastisement.  His 
letter  is  touching  for  its  disappointed  love  and  humbled  con- 
fidence.    It  runs  thus  : — 

'Last  night,  February  8,  1744,  I  was  called  to  sacrifice  my  Isaac — I 
mean  to  bury  my  own  child  and  son,  about  four  months  old.  Many  things 
occurred  to  make  me  believe  he  was  not  only  to  be  continued  to  me,  but  to 
be  a  preacher  of  the  everlasting  gospel.  Pleased  with  the  thought,  and 
ambitious  of  having  a  son  of  my  own  so  divinely  employed,  Satan  was  per- 
mitted to  give  me  some  wrong  impressions,  whereby,  as  I  now  find,  I 
misapplied  several  texts  of  Scripture.  .  .   .   Upon  my  coming  here,  without 


/       ,  vj  '      -^  ire    --^-g^ 

^Whirffidd^  clayV^liS;',; 


(RKOW.  1900. 


DEATH  OF  HIS  SON  211 

knowing  what  had  happened,  I  inquired  concerning  the  welfare  of  parent 
and  child,  and  by  the  answer  found  that  the  flower  was  cut  down.  I 
immediately  called  all  to  join  in  a  prayer,  in  which  I  blessed  the  Father  of 
mercies  for  giving  me  a  son,  continuing  it  to  me  so  long,  and  taking  it 
from  me  so  soon.  All  joined  in  desiring  that  I  would  decline  preaching 
till  the  child  was  buried  ;  but  I  remembered  a  saying  of  good  Mr.  Henry, 
"  that  weeping  must  not  hinder  sowing,"  and  therefore  preached  twice  the 
next  day,  and  also  the  day  following,  on  the  evening  of  which,  just  as  I 
was  closing  my  sermon,  the  bell  struck  out  for  the  funeral.  At  first,  I  must 
acknowledge,  it  gave  nature  a  little  shake,  but  looking  up,  I  recovered 
strength,  and  then  concluded  with  saying  that  this  text  on  which  I  had 
been  preaching,  namely,  "  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God,"  made  me  as  willing  to  go  to  my  son's  funeral  as  to  hear  of  his 
birth. 

'  Our  parting  from  him  was  solemn.  We  kneeled  down,  prayed,  and 
shed  many  tears,  but  I  hope  tears  of  resignation  ;  and  then,  as  he  died  in 
the  house  wherein  I  was  born,  he  was  taken  and  laid  in  the  church  where  I 
was  baptized,  first  communicated,  and  first  preached.   .   .  .' 

There  was  one  sermon,  at  least,  with  which  he  often  melted 
his  vast  congregation  into  tears,  which  would  lose  no  force  of 
tenderness  and  love  now  that  his  always  affectionate  heart, 
which  might  nourish  the  orphans  of  other  fathers  and  mothers, 
was  denied  the  delight  of  fondling  a  child  of  his  own — the 
sermon  on  Abraham's  offering  up  Isaac.  All  the  grief  and 
struggling  of  faithful  Abraham  during  the  three  days'  journey 
to  the  land  of  Moriah,  with  Isaac,  the  burnt-offering,  by  his 
side,  was  henceforth  painfully  real  to  Whitefield  while,  with 
trembling  voice  and  glistening  eye,  he  pictured  them  to  his 
hearers.     All  could  see  the  vision  of — 

'  The  good  old  man  walking  with  his  dear  child  in  his  hand,  and  now 
and  then  looking  upon  him,  loving  him,  and  then  turning  aside  to  weep.  And, 
perhaps,  sometimes  he  stays  a  little  behind  to  pour  out  his  heart  before 
God,  for  he  had  no  mortal  to  tell  his  case  to.  Then  methinks  I  see  him 
join  his  son  and  servants  again,  and  talking  to  them  of  the  things  pertaining 
to  the  kingdom  of  God,  as  they  walked  by  the  way.  .  .  .  Little  did  Isaac 
think  that  he  was  to  be  offered  on  that  very  wood  which  he  was  carrying 
upon  his  shoulders;  and  therefore  Isaac  innocently,  and  with  a  holy  freedom 


2i2  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

—  for  good  men  should  not  keep  their  children  at  too  great  a  distance — 
spake  unto  Abraham,  his  father,  and  said,  "  My  father  ; "  and  he,  with 
equal  affection  and  holy  condescension,  said,  "  Here  am  I,  my  son.  ..." 
Come,  all  ye  tender-hearted  parents,  who  know  what  it  is  to  look  over  a 
dying  child,  fancy  that  you  saw  the  altar  erected  before  you,  and  the  wood 
laid  in  order,  and  the  beloved  Isaac  bound  upon  it ;  fancy  that  you  saw  the 
aged  parent  standing  by,  weeping.  For  why  may  we  not  suppose  that 
Abraham  wept,  since  Jesus  Himself  wept  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus?  Oh, 
what  pious,  endearing  expressions  passed  now  alternately  between  the 
father  and  son  !  Melhinks  I  see  the  tears  trickle  down  the  patriarch's 
cheeks ;  and  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  he  cries,  "  Adieu  !  adieu  ! 
my  son  !  The  Lord  gave  thee  to  me,  and  the  Lord  calls  thee  away  ;  blessed 
be  the  name  of  the  Lord  !  Adieu,  my  Isaac  !  my  only  son,  whom  I  love 
as  my  own  soul !  Adieu  !  adieu  !  "  I  see  Isaac  at  the  same  time  meekly 
resigning  himself  into  his  heavenly  Father's  hands,  and  praying  to  the  Most 
High  to  strengthen  his  earthly  parent  to  strike  the  stroke.' 

Then,  when  men  had  well  entered  into  the  greatness  of  the 
human  sacrifice,  and  were  under  the  dominion  of  their  finest 
and  purest  emotions,  the  preacher  said — 

4  I  see  your  hearts  affected,  I  see  your  eyes  weep.  And  indeed,  who  can 
refrain  weeping  at  the  relation  of  such  a  story  ?  But,  behold  !  I  show  you  a 
mystery  hid  under  the  sacrifice  of  Abraham's  only  son  which,  unless  your 
hearts  are  hardened,  must  cause  you  to  weep  tears  of  love,  and  that  plenti- 
fully too.  I  would  willingly  hope  you  even  prevent  me  here,  and  are  ready 
to  say,  "It  is  the  love  of  God  in  giving  Jesus  Christ  to  die  for  our  sins." 
Yes,  that  is  it.' 

^  The  evangelist  had  an  ever-changing  experience  ;  and  before 
his  grief  for  his  son  was  assuaged  he  was  putting  forth  all  his 
energy  to  secure  justice  for  his  poor  persecuted  converts  at 
Hampton,  going  from  place  to  place  preaching,  pleading,  and 
collecting  money.  The  trial,  which  came  off  at  Gloucester 
Assizes,  on  March  3,  1744,  was  anticipated  by  the  defendants 
with  much  confidence,  because  they  reckoned  that  the  gentle- 
men and  the  jury  would  be  prejudiced  against  the  Methodists. 
Whitefield  entered  court  when  the  second  witness  was 
being  examined,  and  was  the  object  of  every  one's  attention, 


THE  DISSENTERS  213 

while,  amid  much  laughter,  the  defendants'  counsel  went  on  to 
describe  the  Methodists  after  the  fashion  which  best  suited  his 
bad  case.  In  spite,  however,  of  hard  swearing,  of  oratorical 
pleading,  and  of  the  genteel  influence  which  the  rioters  un- 
doubtedly had  at  their  back,  the  jury  found  the  defendants 
guilty  of  the  whole  information  lodged  against  them. 

Our  narrative  must  now  run  back  for  a  few  months,  that  we 
may  note  the  attitude  of  the  Dissenters  towards  Whitefield. 
Many  of  them  had  shown  him  much  kindness,  but,  with  the 
exception  of  Doddridge  and  Watts,  their  leaders  looked  upon 
him  with  contempt,  or  dislike,  or  fear.  And  for  the  fear  there 
was  some  reason.  Dissenters  were  only  permitted  to  hold 
their  opinions  under  great  disadvantages,  and  were  studiously 
kept  down  in  the  State.  In  consequence,  there  was  a  great 
^desire  on  the  part  of  most  of  them  to  keep  on  friendly  terms 
with  the  Established  Church,  and  not  to  risk  in  any  wise  the 
good  opinion  of  its  bishops  and  clergy.  Theirs  was  the 
worldly-wise,  cautious  spirit  of  men  who  felt  that  any  false 
step  might  multiply  their  disabilities,  not  the  fearless  spirit  of 
those  who  could  safely  dare  to  assume  any  position.  White- 
field,  the  dread  of  orderly  bishops  and  the  reproach  of  idle 
clergymen,  they  therefore  carefully  shunned.  To  consort  with 
him  would  have  exposed  them  to  double  odium — the  odium 
of  Dissent  and  the  odium  of  Methodism. 

Great  weight  must  also  be  attached  to  their  laudable  desire 
to  grapple  on  safe  ground  with  all  forms  of  religious  error ;  and 
it  was  not  deemed  safe,  in  dealing  with  Deism,  to  lie  open  to 
the  charge  of  enthusiasm.  Only  the  calm,  argumentative 
preacher,  such  as  Butler,  or  Waterland,  could  be  heard  against 
the  wit  and  arguments  of  Woolston,  Shaftesbury,  Collins,  and 
Tindal.  A  feverish  fear,  only  paralleled  by  that  which  any 
sensible  man  might  now  have  of  being  esteemed  a  fanatic, 
agitated  nearly  all  Christian  apologists,  of  being  suspected  of 


214  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

any  sympathy  with  ardent  devotion  and  burning  zeal.  A 
reasonable  faith,  a  faith  well  buttressed  with  arguments  on 
the  evidences  of  religion,  and  quiet,  sedate  religious  habits, 
were  supposed  to  constitute  the  proper,  if  not  the  perfect, 
Christian.  Any  such  passion  as  glowed  in  the  hearts  of  the 
early  Methodists,  common  sense  and  reason  must  condemn 
and  avoid.  To  have  anything  to  do  with  the  most  religious, 
if  not  the  most  learned  or  the  most  intellectual,  class  of  that 
time,  was  virtually  to  yield  up  the  right  of  speaking  on  religion. 
Who  dare  write  against  Collins,  if  he  had  shaken  hands  with 
Whitefield  or  Wesley — the  enthusiasts,  the  reproach  of  Chris- 
tianity, men  whose  very  profession  of  Christianity  made  it 
require  a  fresh  apology  from  its  accomplished  defenders  to 
its  equally  able  assailants  ? 

Doddridge,  who  had  many  friends  in  the  Establishment, 
and  who  also  took  a  lively  interest  in  all  public  movements 
affecting  the  honour  of  religion  and  the  welfare  of  mankind, 
stands  out  as  a  noble  exception  to  the  somewhat  timid  body 
with  which  he  was  allied.  His  sound  and  varied  learning, 
together  with  his  solid  judgment,  covered  him  from  the  sneer 
that  he  was  a  poor  enthusiast,  while  his  humble  piety  com- 
pelled him  to  countenance  the  new  party  in  the  Church. 
Persuaded  of  the  usefulness  of  Whitefield's  ministrations,  he 
did  not  fear  to  entertain  the  Evangelist  and  to  bid  him  God 
speed.  His  magnanimity  surpassed  that  of  Watts,  who  was 
very  cautious  with  the  '  erratic  curate.'  He  even  went  to  the 
extent  of  supplying  Whitefield's  place  as  preacher  at  the  Taber- 
nacle ;  and  Watts  wrote  saying — 

'  I  am  sorry  that  since  your  departure  I  have  had  many  questions  asked 
me  about  your  preaching  in  the  Tabernacle,  and  sinking  the  character  of 
a  minister,  and  especially  of  a  tutor,  among  the  Dissenters,  so  low  thereby. 
I  find  many  of  our  friends  entertain  this  idea  ;  but  I  can  give  no  answer, 
as  not  knowing  how  much  you  have  been  engaged  there.  I  pray  God  to 
guard  us  from  every  temptation.' 


DR.   DODDRIDGE'S  FRIENDLINESS  215 

Doddridge,  always  thoughtful,  conscientious,  and  liberal, 
knew  what  the  Methodists  were,  and  what  they  were  doing 
among  the  rude,  ignorant,  and  irreligious  part  of  the  popula- 
tion ;  and  was  not  to  be  moved  out  of  his  position  either  by 
ominous  shakes  of  the  head,  or  by  open  opposition  on  the 
part  of  his  co-religionists.  When  the  hackneyed  charge  of 
enthusiasm  was  levelled  against  them,  his  noble  reply  was — 

'  In  some  extraordinary  conversions  there  may  be  and  often  is  a  tincture 
of  enthusiasm,  but,  having  weighed  the  matter  diligently,  I  think  a  man 
had  better  be  a  sober,  honest,  chaste,  industrious  enthusiast,  than  live 
without  any  regard  to  God  and  religion  at  all.  I  think  it  infinitely  better 
that  a  man  should  be  a  religious  Methodist  than  an  adulterer,  a  thief,  a 
swearer,  a  drunkard,  or  a  rebel  to  his  parents,  as  I  know  some  actually 
were  who  have  been  wrought  upon  and  reformed  by  these  preachers.' 

On  Whitefield's  first  visit  to  Northampton,  Doddridge  was 
only  polite  in  personal  intercourse,  but  on  the  second,  he 
opened  his  pulpit  to  him,  which  daring  charity  soon  brought 
a  rebuke  from  London.  Nathanael  Neal,  an  attorney,  and 
son  of  Neal,  the  historian  of  the  Puritans,  said,  in  a  time- 
serving letter,  dated  October  11,   1743: — 


'  It  was  with  the  utmost  concern  that  I  received  the  information  of  Mr. 
Whitefield's  having  preached  last  week  in  your  pulpit,  and  that  I  attended 
the  meeting  of  Coward's  Trustees  this  day,  when  that  matter  was  canvassed, 
and  that  I  now  find  myself  obliged  to  apprise  you  of  the  very  great  uneasi- 
ness which  your  conduct  herein  has  occasioned  them.  .  .  .  The  Trustees 
are  particularly  in  pain  for  it  with  regard  to  your  academy,  as  they  know 
it  is  an  objection  made  to  it  by  some  persons  in  all  appearance  seriously, 
and  by  others  craftily  ;  and  yet  they  are  afraid  of  giving  their  thoughts 
even  in  the  most  private  manner  concerning  it,  lest  it  should  be  made  an 
occasion  of  drawing  them  into  a  public  opposition  to  the  Methodists,  as 
they  are  likely  to  be  in  some  measure  by  your  letter  to  Mr.  Mason  (excusing 
your  prefixing  a  recommendation  of  a  book  of  theirs,  without  the  advice  of 
the  Trustees),  which  letter  they  have  desired  me  to  inform  you  has  given 
them  great  offence.' 


216  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

A  quick  answer  returned  from  Northampton,  and  on 
October  15  th  Neal  wrote  again.     He  says  : — 

'  I  am  not  insensible,  sir,  that  the  respect  many  of  your  people  bore  to 
Mr.  Whitefield,  and  your  own  acquaintance  with  him,  must  have  made  it 
a  matter  of  difficulty  for  you  to  have  avoided  showing  him  some  polite 
regards  on  his  coming  to  Northampton  ;  and  I  greatly  rejoice  in  being 
furnished  with  so  particular  an  account  of  the  circumstances  attending  his 
visit  that  may  enable  me  to  say  you  were  so  far  at  that  time  from  seeking 
his  preaching  in  your  pulpit,  that  you  took  several  steps,  and  indeed  all 
that  you  thought  you  could  prudently  venture  on,  and  such  as  might, 
if  they  had  succeeded,  have  been  sufficient  to  have  prevented  it ;  which 
I  doubt  not  will,  and  I  am  sure  ought,  to  have  some  weight  with  those 
who  censure  this  step  on  the  ground  of  imprudence.  I  could  only  wish  that 
I  were  able  to  make  these  circumstances  known  as  far  as  that  censure 
is  likely  to  extend.' 

Doddridge  continued  '  imprudent,'  and  dared  '  the  cen- 
sure ' ;  so  that  Neal  returned  again  to  the  task  of  remon- 
strating. His  third  letter  is  more  direct,  and  plainly  tells 
the  feelings  which  he  had  only  hinted  at  before. 

The  answer  of  Doddridge  is  plain  and  honest ;  in  one  part 
of  it  he  says  : — 

'  I  shall  always  be  ready  to  weigh  whatever  can  be  said  against  Mr. 
Whitefield,  as  well  as  against  any  of  the  rest ;  and  though  I  must  have 
actual  demonstration  before  I  can  admit  him  to  be  a  dishonest  man,  and 
though  I  shall  never  be  able  to  think  all  he  has  written  and  all  I  have 
heard  from  him  nonsense,  yet  I  am  not  so  zealously  attached  to  him  as  to 
be  disposed  to  celebrate  him  as  one  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  age,  or  to 
think  that  he  is  the  pillar  that  bears  up  the  whole  interest  of  religion 
among  us.  And  if  this  moderation  of  sentiment  towards  him  will  not 
appease  my  angry  brethren,  as  I  am  sensible  it  will  not  abate  the  enmity 
which  some  have  for  many  years  entertained  towards  me,  I  must  acquiesce, 
and  be  patient  till  the  day  of  the  Lord,  when  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall 
be  made  manifest ;  in  which  I  do  from  my  heart  believe  that  with  respect 
to  the  part  I  have  acted  in  this  affair  I  shall  not  be  ashamed.' 

Two  sentences,  in  which  the  devout,  tender,  and  humble 
spirit  of  Doddridge  expresses  itself,  are,  when  taken  in  con- 


ASSAILED  BY  THE  BISHOPS  217 

nection  with  many  similar  expressions  of  Whitefield,  a  sufficient 
explanation  of  the  firm  union  between  these  distinguished 
Christians  :  '  I  am  one  of  the  least  of  God's  children,'  said 
Doddridge,  '  and  yet  a  child ;  and  that  is  my  daily  joy. 
Indeed,  I  feel  my  love  to  Him  increase ;  I  struggle  forwards 
towards  Him  ;  and  look  at  Him,  as  it  were,  sometimes  with 
tears  of  love,  when,  in  the  midst  of  the  hurries  of  life,  I  cannot 
speak  to  Him  otherwise  than  by  an  ejaculation.' 

Other  persons  of  a  different  communion,  and  more  exalted 
in  station  than  Neal,  were  trying  as  well  as  he  what  could  be 
done  in  a  secret  way  to  damage  the  Methodists  in  general, 
and  Whitefield  in  particular.  The  mean  attempt  to  sever 
Doddridge  from  his  friend  was  probably  never  known  to  its 
intended  victim ;  but  this  other  meaner  work  of  an  enemy, 
or  rather  enemies,  did  come  to  his  knowledge.  On 
January  26,  1744,  the  following  advertisement  appeared  in 
London  : — 

'  Whereas  some  anonymous  papers  against  the  people  called  Methodists 
in  general,  and  myself  and  friends  in  particular,  have  been  for  some  weeks 
printed  in  a  large  edition,  and  handed  about  and  read  in  the  religious 
societies  of  the  cities  of  London  and  Westminster,  and  given  into  the  hands 
of  many  private  persons,  with  strict  injunctions  to  lend  them  to  no  one, 
nor  let  them  go  out  of  their  hands  to  any,  and  whereas,  after  having  had 
the  hasty  perusal  of  them,  I  find  many  queries  of  great  importance  con- 
cerning me  and  my  conduct  contained  therein  ;  and  as  it  appears  that  one 
paper  has  little  or  no  connection  with  another,  and  a  copy,  when  applied 
for,  was  refused  me,  and  I  know  not  how  soon  I  may  embark  for  Georgia, 
1  am  therefore  obliged  hereby  to  desire  a  speedy  open  publication  of  the 
aforesaid  papers,  in  order  that  a  candid,  impartial  answer  may  be  made 
thereto  by  me. 

'  George  Whitefield.' 

Rumour  was  not  silent  about  the  authorship  of  the  secret 
papers ;  no  less  a  personage  than  the  Bishop  of  London  was 
singled  out  as  their  writer.     Whitefield,  accordingly,  with  the 


218  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

frankness  and  courage  which  always  distinguished  him,  wrote 
to  the  Bishop  himself  to  ask  for  information  : — 

'  London,  February  i,  1744. 

'My  Lord,- Simplicity  becomes  the  followers  of  Jesus  Christ,  and 
therefore  I  think  it  my  duty  to  trouble  your  lordship  with  these  few  lines. 
I  suppose  your  lordship  has  seen  the  advertisement  published  by  me,  about 
four  days  ago,  concerning  some  anonymous  papers  which  have  been  handed 
about  in  the  societies  for  some  considerable  time.  As  I  think  it  my  duty 
to  answer  them,  I  should  be  glad  to  be  informed  whether  the  report  be 
true  that  your  lordship  composed  them,  that  I  may  the  better  know  to 
whom  I  may  direct  my  answer.  A  sight  also  of  one  of  the  copies,  if  in 
your  lordship's  keeping,  would  much  oblige,  my  lord, 

'  Your  lordship's  most  obliged,  dutiful  son  and  servant, 
'  George  Whitefield. 

'  PS. — -The  bearer  will  bring  your  lordship's  answer  ;  or  if  your  lordship 
please  to  favour  me  with  a  line,  be  pleased  to  direct  for  me,  to  be  left  with 
Mr.  J.  Syms.' 

To  this  letter  the  Bishop  sent  no  answer  at  all;  but  two  days 
after  it  was  sent  to  him  his  printer  left  the  following  suggestive 
note  for  Whitefield  : — 

'  February  3,  1744- 
'Sir, — My  name  is  Owen.  I  am  a  printer  in  Amen  Corner;  and  I 
waited  upon  you  to  let  you  know  that  I  have  had  orders  from  several  of 
the  bishops  to  print  for  their  use  such  numbers  of  the  "  Observations  upon 
the  Conduct  and  Behaviour  of  the  Methodists  " — with  some  additions — as 
they  have  respectively  bespoken.  And  I  will  not  fail  to  wait  upon  you 
with  one  copy  as  soon  as  the  impression  is  finished. 

'  I  am,  sir,  your  most  obedient,  &c.' 

The  contents  of  the  anonymous  pamphlet  are  not  difficult 
to  discover  from  Whitefield's  'Answer,'  which  he  addressed 
in  a  '  Letter  to  the  Right  Reverend  the  Bishop  of  London, 
and  the  other  Right  Reverend  the  Bishops  concerned  in  the 
publication  thereof,'  namely,  of  the  pamphlet.  Whitefield 
charged  the  pamphlet  with  having  an  intention  to  represent 
the  proceedings  of  the  Methodists  as  dangerous  to  Church  and 


ASSAILED  BY  THE  BISHOPS  219 

State,  in  order  to  procure  an  Act  of  Parliament  against  them, 
or  to  oblige  them  to  secure  themselves  by  turning  Dissenters, 
that  is,  putting  themselves  under  the  Toleration  Act.  His 
answer  to  such  an  attempt  was  the  same  as  he  gave  to  the 
Scotch  Presbyterians  :  '  As  yet  we  see  no  sufficient  reason  to 
leave  the  Church  of  England  and  turn  Dissenters ;  neither 
will  we  do  it  till  we  are  thrust  out.'  The  pamphlet  charged 
the  Methodists  with  breaking  the  statute  law  by  their  field- 
preaching  ;  and  to  be  quite  sure  of  the  law  on  this  point, 
Whitefield  perused  all  the  Acts  of  Charles  II.  in  which  the 
word  '  field '  is  mentioned.  His  conclusion  was,  that  Acts 
against  field-preaching  related  only  to  seditious  conventicles ; 
and  of  this  offence  Methodism  was  not  guilty.  Then  White- 
field  enters  upon  a  defence  of  his  favourite  mode  of  reaching 
the  multitude,  by  quoting  the  example  of  our  Lord  and  the 
apostles,  and  pungently  inquires  :  '  I  would  humbly  ask  your 
lordships  whether  it  would  not  be  more  becoming  your  lord- 
ships' characters  to  put  your  clergy  on  preaching  against 
revelling,  cock-fighting,  and  such  like,  than  to  move  the 
Government  against  those  who,  out  of  love  to  God  and 
precious  souls,  put  their  lives  in  their  hand,  and  preach  unto 
such  revellers  repentance  towards  God  and  faith  in  our  Lord 
Jesus  ?  What  if  the  Methodists  by  "  public  advertisement  do 
invite  the  rabble?  "  .  .  .  These  rabble,  my  lords,  have  precious 
and  immortal  souls,  for  which  the  dear  Redeemer  shed  His 
precious  blood,  as  well  as  the  great  and  rich.  These,  my 
lords,  are  the  publicans  and  harlots  that  enter  into  the  king- 
dom of  heaven,  while  self-righteous  formal  professors  reject  it. 
To  show  such  poor  sinners  the  way  to  God,  to  preach  to  them 
the  power  of  Christ's  resurrection,  and  to  pluck  them  as  fire- 
brands out  of  the  burning,  the  Methodist  preachers  go  out 
into  the  highways  and  hedges.  If  this  is  to  be  vile,  by  the 
help  of  my  God  I  shall  be  more  vile.  ...  Is  it  not  ridiculous, 


22o  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

my  lords,  even  in  the  eyes  of  worldly  men,  and  does  it  not 
render  the  author  of  this  pamphlet  justly  liable  to  contempt, 
to  charge  the  Methodists  with  breaking  canons  and  rubrics, 
which  is  really  not  their  fault ;  when  at  the  same  time  he 
knows  that  the  generality  of  the  clergy  so  notoriously  break 
both  canons  and  rubrics,  and  that  too  in  the  most  important 
articles,  such  as  not  catechising,  pluralities,  non-residence, 
&c,  every  day  themselves  ?  With  what  face  can  he  do  it  ? ' 
The  Rev.  Thomas  Church,  vicar  of  Battersea,  came,  among 
others,  to  the  rescue  of  the  bishops  with  a  '  Serious  and 
Expostulatory  Letter  to  the  Rev.  G.  Whitefield.'  He  raised 
a  few  questions  which  throw  some  light  upon  Whitefield's 
ecclesiastical  position.  There  were  irregularities  in  curtailing 
the  liturgy,  or  not  using  the  Common  Prayer  in  the  fields — 
what  had  Whitefield  to  say  about  them  ?  That  when,  and 
only  when,  his  ecclesiastical  superiors  should  arraign  him  at  the 
bar  of  the  proper  courts  would  he  give  any  answer  at  all  to  the 
question.  There  was  his  non-residence  at  Savannah — what 
could  he  say  in  defence  of  that  ?     He  replied  : — 

'  I  wish  every  non-resident  minister  in  England  could  give  as  good  an 
account  of  their  non-residence  as  I  can  of  my  absence  from  Savannah. 
When  I  came  over  to  England  to  receive  priest's  orders,  and  collect  money 
for  building  an  orphan-house,  the  honourable  Trustees,  at  the  request  of 
many,  presented  me  to  the  living  of  Savannah.  I  accepted  it,  but  refused 
the  stipend  of  fifty  pounds  per  annum  which  they  generously  offered  me. 
Neither  did  I  put  them  to  any  expense  during  my  stay  in  England,  where 
I  thought  it  my  duty  to  abide  till  I  had  collected  a  sufficient  sum  where- 
with I  might  begin  the  orphan-house,  though  I  should  have  left  England 
sooner  had  I  not  been  prevented  by  the  embargo.  However,  I  was  more 
easy,  because  the  honourable  Trustees  I  knew  had  sent  out  another 
minister,  who  arrived  soon  after  I  left  the  colony.  Upon  my  second 
arrival  in  Georgia,  finding  the  care  of  the  orphan-house,  and  the  care  of 
the  parish,  too  great  a  task  for  me,  I  immediately  wrote  over  to  the  honour- 
able Trustees  to  provide  another  minister.  In  the  meanwhile,  as  most  of 
my  parishioners  were  in  debt,  or  ready  to  leave  the  colony  for  want  of 
being  employed,  and  as  I  believed  that  erecting  an  orphan-house  would  be 


SHAMEFULLY   TREATED  AT  PLYMOUTH      221 

the  best  thing  I  could  do  for  them  and  their  posterity,  I  thought  it  my  duty 
from  time  to  time  to  answer  the  invitations  that  were  sent  me  to  preach 
Christ  Jesus  in  several  parts  of  America,  and  to  make  more  collections 
towards  carrying  on  the  orphan-house.  The  Lord  stirred  up  many  to  be 
ready  to  distribute  and  willing  to  communicate  on  this  occasion.  I  always 
came  home  furnished  with  provisions  and  money,  most  of  which  was 
expended  upon  the  people,  and  by  this  means  the  northern  part  of  the 
colony  almost  entirely  subsisted  for  a  considerable  time.  And  now,  sir, 
judge  you  whether  my  non-residence  was  anything  like  the  non-residence 
of  most  of  the  English  clergy.  When  I  was  absent  from  my  parishioners, 
I  was  not  loitering  or  living  at  ease,  but  preaching  and  begging  for  them 
and  theirs  ;  and  when  I  returned,  it  was  not  to  fleece  my  flocks,  and  then 
go  and  spend  it  upon  my  lusts,  or  lay  it  up  for  a  fortune  for  myself  and 
relations.' 


The  family  at  Bethesda,  long  wishful  to  see  him,  and  the 
thousands  living  between  Savannah  and  Boston,  who  wished 
again  to  hear  him  and  sent  him  urgent  requests  to  come 
among  them,  constrained  him  to  take  his  fifth  voyage  to 
America;  and  in  June,  1744,  he  took  passage  in  a  ship  which 
was  to  sail  from  Portsmouth.  Second  thoughts,  but  not 
better  ones,  led  the  captain  to  refuse  him  a  berth  in  his  ship 
for  fear  he  might  spoil  the  sailors.  He  then  betook  himself 
to  Plymouth,  and  secured  a  passage  in  a  mast-ship  that  was  to 
sail  under  convoy  to  Piscataway  in  New  England.  The 
journey  from  London  to  the  sea-port  was  a  pleasant  one, 
through  the  midst  of  warm  friends  and  loving  converts  ;  and 
as  he  went  from  place  to  place  he  encouraged  believers  and 
called  sinners  to  repentance.  Plymouth  was  not  at  first 
altogether  gratified  with  the  distinction  that  rested  upon  it  for 
several  weeks.  It  was  presumed  that  Whitefield  would  be 
sure  to  appear  on  the  Hoe  on  the  night  of  his  arrival,  and  to 
oppose  him  and  draw  away  his  congregation  some  one  brought 
a  bear  and  a  drum.  But  the  first  announcement  of  his  arrival 
was  false  news,  and  both  crowd  and  bear  were  disappointed. 
The  following  night  brought  him  ;  and  his  first  taste  of  Plymouth 


222  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

civility  was  the  bursting  open  of  his  room  door  by  several  men 
under  pretence  of  a  hue-and-cry.  He  then  withdrew  from  the 
inn  to  private  lodgings  ;  but  this  was  no  protection  against  the 
purpose  of  a  little  knot  of  fast  young  men,  who  had  resolved, 
probably  in  a  bragging  spirit,  to  put  indignity  upon  him,  if  not 
to  injure  him.  One  of  them,  a  lieutenant  of  a  man-of-war, 
laid  a  wager  of  ten  guineas  that  he  would  do  the  business  for 
the  Methodist  preacher,  and  went  and  assailed  him  with  a 
gold-headed  stick  as  he  lay  in  bed.  Thinking  he  was  some 
Nicodemite,  Whitefield  had  permitted  the  coward  to  come  up 
to  his  room.  The  cry  of  murder  raised  by  Whitefield  and  his 
landlady  and  her  daughter  at  last  made  him  afraid,  and  as  he 
retreated  to  the  chamber  door,  the  landlady  helped  him  down- 
stairs with  a  push.  Then  a  second  bully — no  doubt  the 
whole  band  were  outside  listening  to  the  scuffle — shouted  out, 
'Take  courage,  I  am  ready  to  help  you,'  and,  rushing  up- 
stairs while  his  friend  was  escaping,  took  one  of  the  women  by 
the  heels  and  threw  her  so  violently  upon  the  stairs  as  almost 
to  break  her  back.  By  this  time  the  neighbourhood  was 
alarmed,  and  thus  the  sport  of  the  young  '  gentlemen  '  came 
to  an  end.  The  house  door  was  shut,  and  Whitefield  went  to 
sleep  meditating  on  the  propriety  with  which  we  are  taught  in 
the  Litany  to  pray — '  From  sudden  death,  good  Lord,  deliver 
us!' 

Preaching  called  Whitefield  out  next  morning,  and  he  went 
to  it,  saying  to  his  friends  who  counselled  the  prosecution  of 
the  offenders,  that  he  had  better  work  to  do,  a  restraint  for 
which  he  is  to  be  commended.  The  assault  increased  his 
popularity,  curiosity  drawing  two  thousand  more  to  hear  a 
man  who  '  had  like  to  have  been  murdered  in  his  bed.' 
There  was  undoubtedly  some  danger  to  be  apprehended. 
Once  his  voice  arrested  the  attention  of  a  band  of  workmen  who 
were  passing  near  the  field  in  which  he  preached,  and  thinking 


HENRY  TANNER  223 

him  mad,  they  filled  their  pockets  with  stones  to  pelt  him,  and 
arranged  to  throw  him  from  his  block.  Their  resolution,  how- 
ever, failed  when  they  came  to  stand  for  a  little  while  under  the 
charm  of  his  eloquence  ;  and  one  of  them — Henry  Tanner, 
a  ship-builder — at  least  went  home  with  a  serious  heart  and 
a  resolution  in  it  that  he  would  come  again  the  next  night  and 
hear  more.  The  next  night  the  sermon  was  on  the  text 
'  Beginning  at  Jerusalem,'  and  contained,  as  it  was  sure  to  do 
in  the  hands  of  a  pictorial  preacher,  and  one  who  sought  the 
recovery  of  '  Jerusalem  sinners '  with  the  greatest  devotion,  a 
description  of  the  cruel  murder  of  the  Lord  of  life.  It  was 
an  admirable  topic  for  admitting  a  close  application  of  truth 
to  the  conscience ;  and  when  the  last  sad  scenes  in  our  Lord's 
life  had  been  portrayed,  Whitefield  said  to  his  congregation  : 
1  You  are  reflecting  on  the  cruelty  of  these  inhuman  butchers, 
who  imbrued  their  hands  in  innocent  blood.'  As  he  spoke 
his  eyes  fell  on  the  young  ship-builder  ;  and  then,  while  speaker 
and  hearer  seemed  to  be  only  with  each  other  in  the  con- 
sciousness of  each  other's  glance,  he  added :  '  Thou  art  the 
man.'  The  effect  was  great  and  manifest;  and  Whitefield, 
with  his  own  swift  aptitude  for  fastening  on  any  passing  event, 
and  for  preaching  to  one  person  in  the  midst  of  a  multitude 
without  any  one  but  that  person  knowing  of  it,  went  on  to 
speak  words  of  tenderness  and  encouragement.  A  third  time 
did  the  young  man  come  to  hear,  and  this  time  to  enter  into 
joy  and  peace  in  believing.  By  and  by  he  in  turn  ventured  to 
preach  the  gospel,  and  his  ministry  of  sixty-five  years,  mostly 
exercised  at  Exeter,  was  one  which  could  boast  that  hardly 
one  of  its  sermons  had  fallen  uselessly  to  the  ground.  His 
last  end  was  according  to  an  earnest  and  oft-repeated  prayer, 
and  such  as  became  a  good  servant  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ ; 
strength  failed  him  in  the  pulpit,  and  he  was  carried  thence 
to  die. 


224  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

The  evangelist  laboured  bravely  amidst  his  troubles,  whilst 
a  contrary  wind  hindered  him  from  sailing;  and  as  had 
happened  a  hundred  times  before,  prejudice  and  opposition 
yielded  to  his  love  and  effort.  Freely  and  of  themselves  some 
who  had  been  opposed  offered  him  a  piece  of  ground  sur- 
rounded with  walls  for  a  society  room.  Great  companies  of 
people,  with  him  in  the  midst,  would  return  from  the  dock 
at  night  singing  and  praising  God.  The  ferrymen,  too,  at  the 
ferry,  had  an  interest  in  the  religious  work  which  had  been  set 
on  foot,  and  would  not  take  toll  from  the  crowds  which  passed 
over  to  hear  the  sermons.  '  God  forbid  that  we  should  sell 
the  word  of  God,'  said  the  kind-hearted  fellows. 

Though  Whitefield  was  leaving  the  country,  Christ's  work 
was  not  interrupted  ;  in  every  county  where  he  had  laboured, 
lay-preachers,  who  knew  the  grace  of  God  as  a  living  power 
in  their  hearts,  went  about,  sometimes  at  the  hazard  of  their 
lives,  joyfully  proclaiming  the  good  news  of  redeeming  love. 
In  eight  years  a  new  ministry,  and  one  of  the  most  efficient, 
had  been  called  into  existence,  and  penetrated  into  villages 
and  towns.  Even  the  press-gang  aided  in  diffusing  the  truth, 
for  Methodists  were  looked  on  as  fair  game,  and  the  Methodist 
soldier  was  not  ashamed  of  his  Saviour  anywhere. 


CHAPTER    IX 
August,   1744— July,   1748 

FIFTH    VOYAGE—  ADVENTURES    AND    CONTROVERSIES — WANDER- 
INGS   IN     AMERICA INVALIDED     IN     BERMUDAS  —  SIXTH 

VOYAGE 

THE  fifth  voyage  was  diversified  with  nautical  adventures 
and  theological  discussions.  The  usual  dangers  of 
ocean  travelling  were  at  this  time,  August,  1 744,  increased  by 
the  men-of-war  which  were  cruising  for  spoil.  France  and 
England  were  at  their  old  folly  of  treating  each  other  as 
natural  enemies.  The  fleet  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  ships 
which  sailed  out  of  Plymouth  Sound  was  therefore  attended 
by  several  convoys,  and  a  good  deal  of  nervousness  was 
evidently  abroad.  Whitefield  was  in  poor  health,  suffering 
from  a  violent  pain  in  his  side,  and  the  tedious  voyage 
increased  his  trouble.  Fully  six  weeks  were  consumed 
between  Plymouth  and  the  Western  Isles,  and  off  the  islands 
they  lay  floating  in  a  calm  for  days  ;  then,  as  the  wind  sprung 
up  a  little,  there  came  a  mishap  which  might  have  sent  a  vessel 
to  the  bottom.  Orders  were  given  to  tack  about,  to  take 
advantage  of  the  breeze,  and  one  of  the  ships,  missing  her 
stays  in  turning,  ran  directly  against  the    Wilmington,  on   the 

16 


226  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

deck  of  which  sat  Whitefield,  his  wife  and  friends  around  him, 
singing  a  hymn.  The  Wilmington,  being  the  larger  vessel, 
suffered  no  damage,  while  the  other  was  so  broken  that  the 
cries  and  groans  of  her  apprehensive  crew  were  awful. 
Presently  they  came  up  with  the  convoy,  and  when  White- 
field's  captain  informed   them  of  what  had   happened,   they 

answered,    '  This  is    your   praying,  and  be  d to   you  ! ' 

Shocked  by  the  profanity,  the  praying  men  got  together,  and 
Whitefield  expressing  their  feelings,  cried  out,  '  God  of  the  sea, 
and  God  of  the  dry  land,  this  is  a  night  of  rebuke  and  blas- 
phemy ;  show  Thyself,  O  God,  and  take  us  under  Thy  own 
immediate  protection ;  be  Thou  our  convoy,  and  make  a 
difference  between  those  who  fear  Thee  and  those  who  fear 
Thee  not.'  The  next  day  a  violent  gale  parted  the  Wilmington 
from  the  convoy,  which  was  seen  no  more  during  the  rest  of 
the  voyage — a  circumstance  which,  with  one  day's  exception, 
proved  rather  agreeable  than  otherwise  to  Whitefield.  Until 
the  adventure  of  that  day  comes  in  its  proper  order,  we  may 
go  into  Whitefield's  cabin  and  consider  the  thoughts  which  he 
is  planning  for  the  benefit  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  and  the 
bishop's  brethren,  who  wrote  the  anonymous  pamphlet  once 
before  mentioned,  or,  at  any  rate,  gave  authoritative  counte- 
nance to  it. 

The  pamphlet  complained  of  the  irregular  practices  of  the 
Methodists,  and  then  proceeded  to  inquire  whether  the  doc- 
trines they  taught  or  the  lengths  they  ran  beyond  what  was 
practised  among  the  religious  societies  or  in  other  Christian 
Churches  would  be  a  service  or  dis-service  to  religion.  The 
startling  effects  of  Whitefield's  preaching,  the  crying  and 
fainting  and  convulsions,  such  as  appeared  at  Cambuslang, 
were  laid  upon  him  as  a  reproach ;  and  it  is  well  to  know  what 
he  himself  thought  of  them.  Referring  to  a  question  in  the 
pamphlet  on  the  subject,  he  says  : — 


EXTRA  ORDINA R  Y  CONVERSIONS  227 

'  Would  not  one  imagine  by  this  query  that  these  itinerants  laid  down 
such  things  as  screamings,  tremblings,  &c,  as  essential  marks  of  the 
co-operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit  ?  But  can  any  such  thing  be  proved  ? 
Are  they  not  looked  upon  by  these  itinerants  themselves  as  extraordinary 
things,  proceeding  generally  from  soul  distress,  and  sometimes,  it  may  be, 
from  the  agency  of  the  evil  spirit,  who  labours  to  drive  poor  souls  into 
despair  ?  Does  not  this  appear  from  the  relation  given  of  them  in  one  of 
the  journals  referred  to  ?  Are  there  not  many  relations  of  the  co-operation 
of  the  Spirit  in  the  same  journal,  where  no  such  bodily  effects  are  so  much 
as  hinted  at?  And  does  not  this  give  ground  to  suspect  that  the  "due 
and  regular  attendance  on  the  public  offices  of  religion,  paid  by  (what  our 
author  calls)  good  men,  in  a  serious  and  composed  way,"  is  little  better 
than  a  dead  formal  attendance  on  outward  ordinances,  which  a  man  may 
continue  in  all  his  lifetime,  and  be  all  the  while  far  from  the  kingdom  of 
God?  Did  ever  any  one  before  hear  this  urged  as  an  evidence  of  the 
co-operation  of  the  Spirit  ?  Or  would  any  one  think  that  the  author  of  the 
observations  ever  read  the  relations  that  are  given  of  the  conversion  of 
several  in  the  Holy  Scriptures  ?  For  may  we  not  suppose,  my  lords,  that 
many  were  cast  into  sudden  agonies  and  screamings  (Acts  ii.  37)  when 
"they  were  pricked  to  the  heart,  and  said  unto  Peter  and  the  rest  of  the 
apostles,  Men  and  brethren,  what  shall  we  do  to  be  saved  ? "  Or  what  would 
this  author  think  of  the  conversion  of  the  jailor  (Acts  x.  29,  30),  "who  sprang 
in,  and  came  trembling  and  fell  down  before  Paul  and  Silas,  and  brought 
them  out,  and  said,  Sirs,  what  must  I  do  to  be  saved  ?  "  Or  what  would 
he  think  of  Paul,  who,  trembling  and  astonished  (Acts  ix.  6),  said,  "  Lord, 
what  wilt  Thou  have  me  to  do  ?  "  and  was  afterwards  three  days  without 
sight,  and  did  neither  eat  nor  drink  ?  Is  it  not  to  be  feared  that  if  this 
author  had  been  seated  upon  the  bench,  and  heard  this  apostle  give  an 
account  of  his  own  conversion,  he  would  have  joined  with  Festus  in  crying 
out  with  a  loud  voice,  "Paul,  much  learning  doth  make  thee  mad?" 
And  are  not  all  these  things,  and  whatever  else  is  recorded  in  the  Book 
of  God,  written  for  our  learning  ?  Is  not  God  the  same,  yesterday,  to-day, 
and  for  ever  ?  And  may  He  not  now,  as  well  as  formerly,  reveal  His  arm 
and  display  His  power  in  bringing  sinners  home  to  Himself  as  suddenly 
and  instantaneously  as  in  the  first  planting  of  the  Gospel  Church  ? ' 

With  this  important  deduction  from  the  instances  quoted 
by  Whitefield  of  persons  undergoing  great  agony  of  mind  at 
the  time  that  they  were  turned  from  their  own  way  of  living 
to  the  way  appointed  by  the  Lord — that  there  was  miracle 
to  alarm — his  explanation  may  be  accepted.     The  pamphlet 


228  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

further  complained  of  Whitefield's  notions  of  justification,  and 
of  the  height  to  which  he  carried  them.  The  gravamen  of  the 
charge  is  directly  against  the  supposed  immoral  tendency  of  jus- 
tification bestowed  solely  upon  the  ground  of  another's  merit, 
and  has  been  already  dealt  with  ;  but  all  the  conceptions  which 
in  Whitefield's  mind  stood  related  to  the  conception  of  jus- 
tification may  now  have  our  consideration.  His  system  was 
severely  logical.  The  atonement  was  so  much  suffering  en- 
dured on  the  part  of  our  Lord  at  the  hands  of  His  angry 
Father  on  behalf  of  so  many  sinners  ;  he  says  :  '  When  Christ's 
righteousness  is  spoken  of,  we  are  to  understand  Christ's 
obedience  and  death — all  that  Christ  has  done,  and  all  that 
Christ  has  suffered  for  an  elect  world,  for  all  that  will  believe 
on  Him.'  The  position  of  our  Lord  was  that  of  a  substitute 
— the  view  which  has  always  been  effectual,  through  the  Holy 
Spirit,  to  the  conversion  of  souls.  The  sins  of  the  elect  were 
laid  on  Him  in  the  most  literal  sense  :  He  was  there  as  a 
sinner  in  the  Father's  sight,  and  before  the  Father's  law ;  and 
upon  the  head  of  such  a  One  it  was  meet  that  the  indignation 
should  be  poured.  The  active  obedience  of  our  Saviour  con- 
stituted the  extra  righteousness  in  the  moral  world,  which,  not 
being  required  for  Himself,  since  He  was  always  pure  and 
sinless,  might  be  imputed  to  any  who  would  believe  on  Him. 
Whitefield's  words  are  :  '  In  that  nature ' — i.e.,  our  human 
.nature — 'He  obeyed,  and  thereby  fulfilled  the  whole  moral 
law  in  our  stead;  and  also  died  a  painful  death  upon  the  Cross, 
and  thereby  became  a  curse  for,  or  instead  of,  those  whom 
the  Father  had  given  to  Him.  As  God  He  satisfied  at  the 
same  time  that  He  obeyed  and  suffered  as  man ;  and,  being 
God  and  man  in  one  person,  He  wrought  out  a  full,  perfect, 
and  sufficient  righteousness  for  all  to  whom  it  was  to  be  im- 
puted.' The  language  in  which,  in  his  favourite  and  thrilling 
sermon  on  'The  True  Way  of  Beholding  the  Lamb  of  God,' 


THE  SUFFERINGS  OF  CHRIST  229 

he  describes  the  sufferings  of  the  Redeemer,  is,  in  some  parts, 
melting  and  attractive  for  its  tender  sympathy  of  love.  It 
has  one  short  clause  which  seems  to  indicate  that  Whitefield 
was  not  quite  satisfied  with  what  he  said  : — 

'  The  paschal  lamb  was  further  typical  of  Christ,  its  great  Antitype,  in 
that  it  was  to  be  killed  in  the  evening,  and  afterwards  roasted  with  fire. 
So  Christ,  our  Passover,  was  sacrificed  for  us  in  the  evening  of  the  world, 
only  with  this  material  difference,  the  paschal  lamb  was  first  slain  and  then 
roasted,  whereas  the  holy  Jesus,  the  spotless  Lamb  of  God,  was  burnt  and 
roasted  in  the  fire  of  His  Father's  wrath  before  He  actually  expired  upon 
the  cross.  To  satisfy  you  of  this,  if  you  can  bear  to  be  spectators  of  such  an 
awful  tragedy,  as  I  desired  you  just  now  to  go  with  me  to  the  entrance,  so 
I  must  now  entreat  you  to  venture  a  little  further  into  the  same  garden. 
But — stop — what  is  that  we  see?  Behold  the  Lamb  of  Cod  undergoing  the 
most  direful  tortures  of  vindictive  wrath  !  Of  the  people,  even  of  His  dis- 
ciples, there  is  none  with  Him.  Alas  !  was  ever  sorrow  like  unto  that 
sorrow  wherewith  His  innocent  soul  was  afflicted  in  this  day  of  His 
Father's  fierce  anger?  Before  He  entered  into  this  bitter  passion,  out  of 
the  fulness  of  His  heart  he  said,  "  Now  is  My  soul  troubled."  But  how 
is  it  troubled  now?  His  agony  bespeaks  it  to  be  exceeding  sorrowful, 
even  unto  death.  It  extorts  sweat,  yea,  a  bloody  sweat.  His  face,  His 
hands,  His  garments  are  all  over  stained  with  blood.  It  extorts  strong 
crying  and  many  tears.  See  how  the  incarnate  Deity  lies  prostrate  before 
His  Father,  who  now  laid  on  Him  the  iniquities  of  us  all.  See  how  He 
agonises  in  prayer!  Hark!  Again  and  again  He  addresses  His  Father 
with  an  "If  it  be  possible,  let  this  cup  pass  from  Me!"  Tell  me,  ye 
blessed  angels,  tell  me,  Gabriel,  or  whatsoever  thou  art  called,  who  wast 
sent  from  heaven  in  this  important  hour  to  strengthen  our  agonising  Lord, 
tell  me,  if  ye  can,  what  Christ  endured  in  this  dark  and  doleful  night ;  and 
tell  me  what  you  yourselves  felt  when  you  heard  this  same  God-man, 
whilst  expiring  on  the  accursed  tree,  breaking  forth  into  that  dolorous, 
unheard-of  expostulation,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  Thou  forsaken 
Me  ?  "  Were  you  not  all  struck  dumb  ?  And  did  not  a  universal  awful 
silence  fill  heaven  itself  when  God  the  Father  said  unto  His  sword, 
"  Sword,  smite  My  fellow  "  ?  Well  might  nature  put  on  its  sable  weeds  ; 
well  might  the  rocks  rend  to  show  their  sympathy  with  a  suffering 
Saviour  ;  and  well  might  the  sun  withdraw  its  light,  as  though  it  was 
shocked  and  confounded  to  see  its  Maker  suffer.  But  our  hearts  are 
harder  than  rocks,  otherwise  they  would  now  break ;  and  our  souls  more 
stupid  than  any  part  of  the  inanimate  creation,  or  they  would  even  now, 
in  some  degree  at  least,  sympathise  with  a  crucified  Redeemer,  who  for  us 


25o  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

men,  and  for  our  salvation,  was  thus   roasted,  as  it  were,  in  the  Father's 
wrath,  and  therefore  fitly  styled  the  Lamh  of  God.' 

Note  the  short  clause,  'as  it  were.' 

Congregations  had  no  time  to  settle  down  upon  Whitefield's 
theological  mistakes  or  inconsistencies,  and  find  fault  with 
them.  Before  the  questioner  had  well  begun  to  consider 
what  hope  of  acceptance  with  God  any  one  durst  cherish  if 
the  atonement  was  only  for  the  elect,  his  soul  was  called  to 
repent  and  believe  ;  for  Whitefield  was  too  wise  at  winning 
souls  to  leave  his  '  application '  to  the  last :  he  would  put  an 
application  to  every  paragraph  rather  than  fail  in  getting  prac- 
tical results.  Love  was  stronger  than  logic.  In  his  sermon 
on  '  The  Lord  Our  Righteousness  '  he  rushes  straight  in  among 
his  hearers'  doubts  and  struggles — doubts  and  troubles  which 
his  own  rebukes  and  pleadings  have  created,  and  exclaims : — 

'  Who  knows  but  the  Lord  may  have  mercy  on,  nay,  abundantly  pardon 
you  ?  Beg  of  God  to  give  you  faith  ;  and  if  the  Lord  gives  you  that,  you 
will  by  it  receive  Christ  with  His  righteousness  and  His  all.  You  need 
not  fear  the  greatness  or  number  of  your  sins.  For  are  you  sinners?  so 
am  I.  Are  you  the  chief  of  sinners?  so  am  I.  Are  you  backsliding 
sinners?  so  am  I.  And  yet  the  Lord — for  ever  adored  be  His  rich,  free, 
and  sovereign  grace — is  my  righteousness.  Come,  then,  O  young  men, 
who,  as  I  acted  once  myself,  are  playing  the  prodigal,  and  wandering  away 
afar  off  from  your  heavenly  Father's  house,  come  home,  come  home,  and 
leave  your  swine-trough.  Feed  no  longer  on  the  husks  of  sensual  delights  ; 
for  Christ's  sake  arise  and  come  home  !  Your  heavenly  Father  now  calls 
you.  See  yonder  the  best  robe,  even  the  righteousness  of  His  dear  Son, 
awaits  you.  See  it  ;  view  it  again  and  again.  Consider  at  how  dear  a 
rate  it  was  purchased,  even  by  the  blood  of  God.  Consider  what  great  need 
you  have  of  it.  You  are  lost,  undone,  damned  for  ever,  without  it.  Come, 
then,  poor  guilty  prodigals,  come  home.  Indeed  I  will  not,  like  the  elder 
brother  in  the  gospel,  be  angry ;  no,  I  will  rejoice  with  the  angels  in 
heaven.  And  O  that  God  would  now  bow  the  heavens  and  come  down  ! 
Descend,  O  Son  of  God,  descend  ;  and  as  Thou  hast  shown  in  me  such 
mercy,  O  let  Thy  blessed  Spirit  apply  Thy  righteousness  to  some  young 
prodigals  now  before  Thee,  and  clothe  their  naked  souls  with  Thy  best 
robe  ! ' 


A  FALSE  ALARM 


231 


Here  we  have,  though  he  might  formally  have  denied  it, 
the  doctrine  of  the  Fatherhood  of  God.  But  see  the  tender, 
passionate  pleading  ! 

The  writing  of  theological  letters  was  very  rudely  inter- 
rupted one  day.  The  good  ship  Wilmington  was  toiling 
through  the  Atlantic  without  her  convoy,  when,  to  the  alarm 
of  all,  Whitefield  included,  two  ships  were  sighted  which  the 
captain  took  to  be  enemies,  bearing  down  on  them  with  all 
the  sail  they  could  crowd.  Preparations  were  at  once  made 
for  an  engagement.  Guns  were  mounted ;  chains  were  put 
about  the  masts ;  the  great  cabin  was  emptied  of  everything  ; 
hammocks  were  slung  about  the  sides  of  the  ship.  Mrs. 
Whitefield  dressed  herself  to  be  prepared  for  all  events,  and 
then  set  about  making  cartridges.  All  but  one  stood  ready 
for  fire  and  smoke.  Whitefield  retreated  to  the  hold  of  the 
ship  when  told  that  that  was  the  chaplain's  place ;  but  not 
liking  his  quarters,  and  being  urged  by  one  of  his  New 
England  friends  to  say  something  to  animate  the  men,  he 
crept  on  deck,  and  beat  to  arms  with  a  warm  exhortation. 
His  words  warmed  the  hearts  of  braver  men.  On  came  the 
dreaded  enemy,  when  lo  !  a  nearer  view  showed  that  they 
were  two  friends  ! 

The  chaplain  had  another  kind  of  enemy  to  fight  with,  and 
gladly  betook  himself  to  his  desk  and  his  quill  to  write  '  Some 
Remarks  upon  a  late  Charge  against  Enthusiasm,  delivered 
by  the  Right  Reverend  Father  in  God,  Richard,  Lord  Bishop 
of  Lichfield  and  Coventry,  in  a  Triennial  Visitation  of  the 
same  in  1741  ;  and  published  at  their  request  in  the  present 
year  1744.  In  a  Letter  to  the  Rev.  the  Clergy  of  that 
Diocess.'  The  position  taken  by  the  bishop  is  almost  the 
same  as  that  chosen  by  Dr.  Gibson,  and  the  reply  was  the  one 
with  which  we  are  familiar :  '  Though  it  is  the  quintessence  of 
enthusiasm  to  pretend  to  be  guided  by  the  Spirit  without  the 


23-  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

written  word,  yet  it  is  every  Christian's  duty  to  be  guided  by 
the  Spirit  in  conjunction  with  the  written  word.' 

At  the  end  of  eleven  weeks  the  Wilmington  came  within 
sight  of  port.  The  long  confinement  had  made  Whitefield  im- 
patient to  land;  and,  with  some  friends,  he  eagerly  and,  in  spite 
of  remonstrance,  transferred  himself  from  the  ship  to  a  little 
fishing-smack  that  had  come  alongside,  and  which,  it  was  said, 
would  distance  the  ship  by  several  hours.  His  haste  delayed 
him.  It  soon  grew  dark,  the  pilots  missed  the  bar  of  York 
harbour,  and  the  smack  and  its  passengers  were  tossed  about 
all  night.  Exposure  increased  the  pain  of  a  severe  attack  of 
nervous  colic,  from  which  he  had  been  suffering  for  some 
time.  He  was  also  so  hungry  that  he  could  almost  have 
gnawed  the  boards  of  the  boat,  and  perhaps  wood  might  have 
done  him  no  more  harm  than  the  raw  potatoes,  the  only  food 
on  board,  of  which  he  partook  freely.  It  pleased  him,  as  he 
lay  shivering,  to  hear  a  fisherman,  in  answer  to  a  question 
about  what  was  going  on  ashore,  say  that  the  '  New-lights  ' 
were  expecting  one  Mr.  Whitefield,  and  that  the  day  before 
many  had  been  praying  for  his  safe  arrival.  Towards  morning 
the  men  found  the  inlet,  and  Whitefield  was  received  into  the 
house  of  a  physician,  formerly  a  notorious  Deist,  but  con- 
verted at  Whitefield's  last  American  visit.  Half  an  hour  after 
his  arrival  he  was  put  to  bed,  racked  with  nervous  colic,  con- 
vulsed from  his  waist  to  his  toes,  and  a  total  convulsion 
was  expected  every  moment.  As  his  wife  and  friends  stood 
around  him,  weeping,  he  begged  them  not  to  be  distressed. 
Fearing  that  he  might  fall  into  a  delirium,  and  say  things  that 
were  wrong,  he  told  them — so  anxious  was  he  never  to  exert 
a  baneful  influence — that  such  a  thing  must  not  surprise 
them.  Happily  the  worst  did  not  come,  yet  for  four  days 
he  could  not  bear  the  sound  of  a  footstep  or  of  a  voice. 

As  soon  as  he  was  somewhat  better,  the  minister  of  York,. 


SERIOUS  ILLNESSES  233 

old  Mr.  Moody,  called  to  bid  him  welcome  to  America,  and 
then    urged   him    to  give    them   a   sermon.      He  consented. 
Meanwhile  news  had  gone  to  Boston  that  he  was  dying ;  and 
when  it  reached  that  city  two  of  his  friends  started  for  York, 
to  nurse  him  if  he  were  alive,  or  to  attend  his  funeral  if  he 
were  dead.     On  their  arrival  they  found  him  in  the  pulpit ! 
Soon  a  relapse  came  on,  through  his  catching  cold,  and  his 
friends  again  thought  that  his  end  was  come ;  yet  while  he 
lay  in  agony  of  body,  his  greater  pain  was  that  he  had  been 
announced  to  preach  and  could  not  go.     The  hour  of  service 
drew  near;  the  minister  who  had  been  appointed  to  preach 
was  leaving  the  house  for  church,  when  of  a  sudden  Whitefield 
said  to  his  friend  and   doctor,    '  Doctor,    my  pains  are    sus- 
pended ;  by  the  help  of  God  I'll  go  and  preach,  and  then 
come  home  and  die.'      And  he  did  go,   pale  as  death,  and 
looking  to  the  astonished  congregation  like  one  risen  from  the 
grave.     It  was  taken  for  a  last  sermon  by  both  people  and 
preacher.     The  invisible  things  of  another  world  lay  open  to 
his  view,  and  expecting  to  be  with  his  Master  before  morning, 
he  spoke  with  peculiar  energy  for  an  hour.     The  effect  of  his 
word  was,   he  says,  worth  dying  for  a  thousand  times  over. 
But  nature  was  hard  pressed  by  the  effort,  and  when,  on  his 
return  home,  he  was  laid  on  a  bed  before  the  fire,  animation 
seemed  to  be  suspended,  and  he  could  hear  his  friends  say  to 
each  other,   '  He  is  gone  ! '     Gradually  he  recovered  ;  and  the 
first  visitor  who  would  see  him,  yea  or  nay,  was  a  poor  Negro 
woman.       Sitting   on    the  ground    beside    him,   and    looking 
earnestly  into  that  kind  face  which  always  wore  its  gentlest 
aspect  when  such  as  she  approached  it,  she  said  in  her  broken 
English,    '  Master,  you   just    go  to  heaven's  gate,   but  Jesus 
Christ  said,  Get  you  down,  get  you  down  ;  you  must  not  come 
here   yet ;    but  go  first  and  call  some   more  poor    Negroes.' 
The  sick  man  prayed  that  it  might  be  as  the  simple-hearted 


234  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Negress  wished  it  to  be ;  and  prayer  and  wish  were  ful- 
filled. 

In  about  three  weeks,  though  still  very  weak,  he  was  able  to 
proceed  to  Boston.  Here  he  was  convinced  that  since  his 
departure  for  England  a  glorious  work  had  been  going  on, 
both  in  Boston  and  in  almost  all  parts  of  New  England.  That 
there  had  been  irregularities  and  follies,  an  unhappy  mixture 
of  human  infirmity  with  Divine  work,  he  could  not  but 
sorrowfully  admit ;  but  good  predominated  over  evil.  What 
reproach  was  incurred,  either  justly  or  unjustly,  was  thrown 
upon  him  ;  and  many  clergy  who  had  before  met  him  at 
Governor  Belcher's  table — Belcher  was  not  now  in  the  post 
of  governor — and  '  paid  him  the  nod,'  were  shy  and  distant, 
and  refused  him  their  pulpits.  There  was  certainly  great 
excitement  in  the  city,  and  party  feeling  ran  high.  A  great 
number  of  strongly-worded  pamphlets  had  appeared  against 
him.  Some  of  the  clergy  began  to  publish  '  halfpenny  testi- 
monials '  against  him,  and  the  president,  professors,  and 
students  of  Harvard  College  joined  in  the  assaults.  But  they 
assailed  a  man  who  was  too  good  not  to  wish  to  be  better, 
and  too  candid  to  be  afraid  of  confessing  his  faults.  Their 
exposure  of  real  blame  on  his  part  only  gave  him  the  oppor- 
tunity to  acknowledge  (which  he  did  with  beautiful  humility) 
wherein  he  had  offended ;  and  their  shameful  treatment  of 
him  in  other  respects  so  roused  many  of  his  friends,  that  they 
came  to  him  to  say  that  they  would,  with  his  consent,  build  in 
a  few  weeks  the  outside  of  the  largest  place  of  worship  in 
America  for  his  use.  The  democratic  feeling  was  too  strong 
for  ministers  to  control.  He  gratefully  declined  their  offer  as 
unsuited  to  his  taste  and  work.  Here,  as  in  so  many  other 
instances,  his  humility  saved  him. 

There  were  strange  instances  of  the  effect  of  his  preaching. 
One  morning  the  crowd  was  too  dense  to  be  penetrated,  and 


A  SCOFFER  CAUGHT  235 

he  was  obliged  to  go  in  at  the  window.  Immediately  after 
him  came  the  high  sheriff,  who  had  been  hostile  to  the  'new 
lights,'  and  the  sight  of  whose  face,  as  it  appeared  through  the 
window,  almost  made  the  astonished  people  cry  out,  '  Is  Saul 
also  among  the  prophets  ?  ' 

Another  day  his  friend  Mr.  Prince  told  him  he  should 
shortly  be  visited  by  a  very  pensive  and  uncommon  person, 
one  of  good  parts,  ready  wit,  and  lively  imagination,  who,  to 
procure  matter  for  tavern  amusement,  had  often  gone  to  hear 
Whitefield  preach,  and  then  returned  to  his  bottle  and  his 
friends,  and  recounted  what  he  could  remember,  at  the  same 
time  adorning  it  with  further  exposition.  He  went  once  too 
often  for  his  fun.      The  crowd  which   bore   him   easily  into 

Dr.  S 's  meeting-house  as  Whitefield  entered,  was  like  a 

solid  rock  behind  him,  when  he  wished  to  return  with  what 
he  thought  was  sufficient  food  for  sport.  Obliged  to  stay,  he 
kept  looking  up  at  Whitefield  and  waiting  for  anything  he 
could  ridicule.  But  soon  he  began  to  feel  miserable  under 
what  he  heard,  and  when  he  withdrew,  it  was  to  go  to  Mr. 
Prince  and  confess  his  sins,  and  his  desire  to  ask  Whitefield's 
pardon,  only  he  was  afraid  to  see  him.  Mr.  Prince  encour- 
aged him  to  venture.  He  went,  and  Whitefield,  on  opening 
the  door  for  him,  saw  in  his  pale,  pensive,  and  horrified 
countenance,  the  story  of  his  life.  In  a  low,  plaintive  voice  he 
said,  '  Sir,  can  you  forgive  me  ?  '  '  Yes,  sir,  very  readily,'  said 
Whitefield  with  a  smile.  The  visitor  thought  that  the  tale  of 
all  his  wrong-doings  would  make  that  impossible;  but  White- 
field  asked  him  to  sit  down,  and  then  spoke  to  him  such 
comfort  as  the  gospel  has  provided  for  broken  hearts. 

The  stay  among  his  New  England  friends  was  more  pro- 
longed than  usual.  Upon  the  renewal  of  his  journeys  his 
course  is  not  easily  traced.  Such  glimpses  of  him,  however, 
as  we  do  get  lend  fresh  charm  both  to  him  and  his  work. 


236  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

One  day  he  is  to  be  seen  at  a  settlement  of  Delaware  Indians, 
the  converts  of  the  devout  Brainerd,  preaching  to  them 
through  an  interpreter,  and  watching  with  that  kindly  interest 
which  the  orphans  at  Bethesda  knew  so  well,  a  class  of  fifty 
Indian  children  learning  the  Assembly's  Shorter  Catechism. 
Soon  afterwards  we  find  him  at  Philadelphia,  welcomed  by 
twenty  ministers  of  the  city  and  neighbourhood,  who  own 
him  as  their  spiritual  father  ;  surrounded  with  enthusiastic, 
solemn  congregations ;  and  offered  by  the  gentlemen  who  had 
the  management  of  the  free  temple  there,  eight  hundred 
pounds  a  year  and  liberty  to  travel  six  months  in  the  year  if 
he  would  become  a  minister  in  the  city,  an  offer  which  he 
treated  as  he  had  done  that  of  the  Boston  people.  We  see 
him  availing  himself  of  his  short  stay  in  the  city  to  write  to 
his  mother,  and  tell  her  that,  though  for  two  years  she  had 
not  written  to  him — doubtless  his  incessant  and  distant 
wanderings  had  helped  to  hinder  her — his  attachment  to 
her  was  as  great  as  ever;  and  then  some  snatches  of  news 
about  the  'golden  bait'  which  'Jesus  had  kept  him  from 
catching  at ; '  about  his  door  of  usefulness  which  opens  wider 
and  wider  ;  about  his  wife  being  very  weak  through  a  mis- 
carriage, or  she  would  have  enclosed  a  few  lines  in  his  letter; 
and  about  the  many  mercies  he  receives  from  God.  He 
rejoiced  in  roaming  the  woods,  hunting  for  sinners,  as  he 
called  his  work  ;  and  next  we  find  him  among  a  little  band  of 
Christians  in  the  backwoods  of  Virginia.  These  men  were 
first  gathered  together  in  a  remarkable  way.  Relations  and 
friends  in  the  dear  old  country,  Scotland,  had  got  a  volume 
of  those  Glasgow  sermons  which  had  helped  to  kindle  the 
revival  in  the  valley  of  the  Clyde,  and  sent  them  across  the 
waters.  When  the  precious  book  was  received  under  the 
shadow  of  the  great  forest,  its  owner,  Samuel  Morris,  called 
his  friends  and  neighbours  to  rejoice  with  him,  and  share  his 


THE  CHURCH  IN  VIRGINIA  237 

feast.  As  his  own  house  was  soon  crowded  to  excess,  a 
meeting-house  had  to  be  built,  and  many  quiet,  solemn 
evenings  were  spent  in  it,  tears  flowing  from  many  eyes  as 
freely  as  if  Whitefield's  pathetic  voice  were  speaking  the  words 
that  were  only  read.  The  sermons  soon  took  a  wider  range, 
and  upon  invitation  Morris  carried  them  to  distant  little 
groups  of  colonists,  who  could  not  enjoy  such  teaching  in 
the  churches,  which  by  law  they  were  expected  to  frequent. 
The  little  church  of  Lutherans,  as  it  was  called,  lifted  up  its 
head,  like  a  flower  refreshed  with  rain,  when  Whitefield  came  \ 
others  also  '  engaged  themselves  to  the  Lord.' 

Somewhere  on  the  road  his  wife,  with  a  Boston  young  lady, 
left  him,  to  travel  to  Georgia,  and  tidings  came  to  him  that 
they  '  traverse  the  wood  bravely.'  Whether  he  felt  lonely 
without  her  with  whom  he  had  been  '  more  than  happy '  he 
nowhere  says ;  but  then  he  never  said  as  much  about  his 
troubles  as  his  comforts.  We  next  come  upon  him  at 
Bethesda,  where  he  wintered  in  1746-47.  Most  likely  his 
letters  to  friends  in  London — the  only  letters  he  wrote  at  this 
time — would  have  contained  news  about  his  dear  family,  had 
not  London  friends  needed  counsel  and  comfort  in  the  midst 
of  troubles  which  had  arisen  at  the  Tabernacle.  So  he  said 
not  a  word  about  his  own  heavy  burden  with  the  orphans,  but 
added  another  load  to  all  that  his  tender  heart  already  carried. 
Bethesda  had  long  wished  to  see  him,  and  as  soon  as  he 
crossed  its  threshold  the  cry  came  from  London  to  return  and 
succour  his  distressed  flock  there.  AYhat  could  he  do  but 
direct  his  people  to  One  whose  love  was  his  own  daily  sup- 
port? 'Oh,  that  your  eyes,'  he  exclaims,  may  be  looking 
towards  and  waiting  on  the  blessed  Jesus  :  from  Him  alone 
can  come  your  salvation  ;  He  will  be  better  to  you  than  a 
thousand  Whitefields.' 

The  same  generosity  which  made  him  accessible  to  all  in 


238  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

trouble  made  him  most  grateful  for  any  help  afforded  him  in 
carrying  out  his  benevolent  purposes.  In  a  letter  he  shows 
both  his  kindness  and  his  perverted  notions  about  slaves  : — 

'  God  has  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  my  South  Carolina  friends  to  contri- 
bute liberally  towards  purchasing  a  plantation  and  slaves  in  this  province, 
which  I  purpose  to  devote  to  the  support  of  Bethesda.  Blessed  be  God, 
the  purchase  is  made.  I  last  week  bought  at  a  very  cheap  rate  a  planta- 
tion of  six  hundred  and  forty  acres  of  ground  ready  cleared,  fenced,  and 
fit  for  rice,  corn,  and  everything  that  will  be  necessary  for  provisions. 
One  Negro  has  been  given  me.  Some  more  I  purpose  to  purchase  this 
week.' 

While  benefactors  were  thanked  with  exuberant  gratitude, 
detractors  were  quietly  faced  with  an  audited  account  of 
receipts  and  disbursements  in  behalf  of  the  orphan-house.  A 
very  serious  affair  was  auditing  in  these  days,  before  the  intro- 
duction of  limited  liability  companies.  First,  Whitefield  and 
Habersham  were  put  upon  oath  that  the  accounts  laid  before 
the  bailiffs  contained,  to  the  best  of  their  knowledge,  a  just 
and  true  account  of  '  all  monies  collected  by,  or  given  to 
them,  or  any  other,  for  the  use  and  benefit  of  the  said  house ; 
and  that  the  disbursement  had  been  faithfully  applied  to  and 
for  the  use  of  the  same.'  Then  comes  the  statement  of  the 
auditors,  given  upon  oath,  in  which  they  say :  '  It  doth  not 
appear  that  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield  hath  converted  any  part 
thereof  to  his  own  private  use  and  property,  or  charged  the 
said  house  with  any  of  his  travelling,  or  other  private  expenses ; 
but  on  the  contrary,  hath  contributed  to  the  said  house  many 
valuable  benefactions.' 

The  return  of  spring  saw  him  mounted  for  another  excur- 
sion. The  news  of  his  coming  spread  from  settlement  to 
settlement ;  and  when  the  early  light  of  the  fresh  spring  morn- 
ings flushed  the  sky,  farmers  and  planters  bestirred  them- 
selves, and  prepared  for  a  ride  to  the  distant  preaching-place. 


A  FOREST  CONGREGATION  239 

Many  a  lonely  forest  path  and  highway,  striped  with  shadows 
of  tall  trees  and  bands  of  sunshine,  was  enlivened  by  groups  of 
horsemen  and  solitary  riders — some  of  them  men  of  staunch 
piety,  who  longed  after  religious  stimulus  and  instruction,  and 
were  going  to  the  open  glade  as  devoutly  as  ever  David  went 
up  to  Mount  Zion  ;  others  of  them  men  of  heavy  heart  and 
sad  countenance,  who  were  getting  their  first  insight  into  them- 
selves and  the  mysteries  of  religion,  and  were  uneasy  as  they 
saw  the  vision  ;  and  others  again  men  of  thoughtless  spirit  and 
easy  life,  who  supposed  that  religion  might  very  well  be  left  to  a 
more  serious  time  than  joyous  days  of  health  and  vigour,  when 
the  blood  is  warm,  but  who  had  a  fancy  to  hear  the  far-famed 
preacher.  Nor  were  wives  and  daughters  absent  from  the 
bands  of  travellers.  As  they  tied  their  neighing  horses  to  the 
trees  and  hedges,  and  formed  themselves  into  a  great  congre 
gation,  few  sights  could  be  either  more  picturesque  or  more 
impressive.  All  hearts  were  more  or  less  accessible  to  the 
glowing  eloquence  of  the  evangelist,  who  pleaded  before  them, 
with  tears  and  earnest  words,  the  claims  of  his  gracious  and 
exalted  Master  on  the  trust  and  love  of  every  soul  of  man. 
Holy  thoughts  were  carried  back  home  by  many  of  the 
worldly,  as  well  as  by  many  of  the  devout  ;  and  the  plantation 
and  farm  began  to  give  signs  that  a  God-fearing  man  lived  in 
the  pvincipal  house  on  it. 

But  the  evangelist's  health  soon  began  to  suffer  when  the 
cool  spring  changed  to  sultry  summer.  American  summers 
always  exhausted  him,  and  that  of  1747  formed  no  exception. 
By  the  middle  of  May  the  heat  was  trying  his  '  wasting  taber- 
nacle,' but,  he  says,  '  through  Christ  strengthening  me,  I 
intend  persisting  till  I  drop.'  The  condition  of  the  southern 
colonies  was  so  destitute,  and  his  sense  of  the  love  of  our  Lord 
so  vivid,  that  he  carried  out  his  purpose,  and  in  five  weeks 
made  a  circuit  of  five  hundred  miles  ;  but  by  that  time  fever 


\ 


240  GEOXGE   WHITEFIELD 

was  consuming  him,  convulsions  shaking  him,  and  nervous 
colic  and  gravel  griping  him.  At  length  that  which  he  dreaded 
came  upon  him  ;  he  could  not  preach.  His  chief  solace  was 
gone.  It  is  with  an  infinite  pathos  that  the  burdened,  harassed, 
persecuted  man  writes  :  '  Tis  hard  to  be  silent,  but  I  must  be 
tried  every  way.'  Compelled  to  hold  his  peace,  he  made  his 
way  as  far  north  as  New  York,  and  there  again  resumed  his 
beloved  work.  To  follow  him  from  this  point  would  simply 
be  to  recount,  with  an  alteration  of  the  names  of  places, 
the  experience  of  alternate  sickness  and  partial  recovery,  of 
preaching  and  its  pleasures,  which  has  just  been  before 
us. 

His  attention  had  to  be  given  to  things  in  London,  though 
his  heart  had  become  so  united  to  America  that' he  sometimes 
thought  he  should  never  again  leave  it.  Cennick,  who  had 
quarrelled  with  Howel  Harris,  the  chief  manager  of  the  Taber- 
nacle, during  Whitefield's  absence,  had  gone  over  to  the 
Moravians.  Whitefield's  letter  to  him  upon  that  step  is 
highly  creditable  both  to  his  charity  and  good  sense.  He 
says  : — 


'  I  am  sorry  to  hear  there  are  yet  disputings  amongst  us  about  brick 
walls.  I  was  in  hopes,  after  our  contests  of  that  kind  about  seven  years  ago, 
such  a  scene  would  never  occur  again ;  but  I  find  fresh  offences  must  come, 
to  search  out  and  discover  to  us  fresh  corruptions,  to  try  our  faith,  teach  us 
to  cease  from  man,  and  to  lean  more  upon  Him  who  by  His  infinite 
wisdom  and  power  will  cause  that  "  out  of  the  eater  shall  come  forth  meat, 
and  from  the  strong  sweetness."  I  am  glad  you  find  yourself  happy  in  the 
holy  Jesus.  ...  It  has  been  my  meat  and  drink  to  preach  among  poor 
sinners  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ.  Mayst  thou  continue  and  abide 
in  this  place.' 


It  is  pleasant  to  know  that  old  divisions  were  being  healed, 
if,  unhappily,  new  ones  were  breaking  out.     The  letter  just 


GROUNDS  OF  CHRISTIAN  UNION  241 

quoted  from,  and  others  presently  to  be  referred  to,  amply 
sustain  the  generous  eulogy  of  his  friend  Charles  Wesley  : — 

'  When  Satan  strove  the  brethren  to  divide, 
And  turn  their  zeal  to  "  Who  is  on  my  side?" 
One  moment  warmed  with  controversial  fire, 
He  felt  the  spark  as  suddenly  expire  ; 
He  felt  revived  the  pure  ethereal  flame, 
The  love  for  all  that  bowed  to  Jesus'  name, 
Nor  ever  more  would  for  opinions  fight 
With  men  whose  life,  like  his,  was  in  the  right.' 

On  September  11,  1747,  he  wrote  to  John  Wesley,  and 
said  : — 

'  Not  long  ago  I  received  your  kind  letter,  dated  in  February  last.    Your 
others,  I  believe,  came  to  hand,  and  I  hope  ere  now  you  have  received  my 
answer.     My  heart   is  really  for  an  outward  as  well   as  for  an  inward     I 
union.     Nothing  shall  be   wanting  on    my  part  to  bring  it  about,  but  I     / 
cannot  see  how  it  can  possibly  be  effected  till  we  all  think  and  speak  the    / 
same  things.     I  rejoice  to  hear  that  you  and  your  brothers  are  more  mode-  / 
rate  with  respect  to  sinless  perfection.     Time  and  experience,  I  believe,  / 
will  convince  you  that  attaining  such  a  state  in  this  life  is  not  a  doctrine  of/ 
the  everlasting  gospel.     As  for  universal  redemption,  if  we  omit  from  each/ 
side  the  talking  for  or  against  reprobation,  which  we  may  do  fairly,  ana 
agree  as  we  already  do  in  giving  a  universal  offer  to  all  poor  sinners  thai 
will  come  and  taste  the  water  of  life,  I  think  we  may  manage  very  well.'    * 

Thus  reprobation  sank  into  oblivion — really  died  without  a 
struggle.  The  same  day  he  wrote  a  shorter  but  perhaps  still 
warmer  letter  to  Charles. 

At  the  end  of  his  summer's  labours  he  turned  his  face  again 
to  Bethesda.  A  little  riding  tired  him,  but  still  he  felt  that, 
near  as  he  had  been  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  some  of  his 
friends  had  prayed  him  back  again  into  the  world.  His  heart 
was  all  gratitude  for  the  success  of  his  word  :  '  the  barren 
wilderness  was  made  to  smile  all  the  way.'  What  he  did 
during  the  winter  of  1747-48,  whether  he  went  about  Georgia 

17 


243  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

preaching  to  little  companies,  as  in  the  days  when  he  first 
entered  the  colony,  at  the  same  time  watching  the  affairs  of  the 
orphan-house,  or  rested  to  recruit  himself,  cannot  be  told.  It 
is  certain  that  in  the  spring  following  he  was  much  weighed 
down  with  travelling,  with  care,  and  with  his  orphan-house 
debts — was,  in  fact,  in  such  poor  health  that  his  friends  advised 
him  to  try  the  air  of  Bermudas — 

'  So  sweet  the  air,  so  moderate  the  clime, 
None  sickly  lives,  or  dies  before  the  time.' 

Were  we  to  judge  of  the  clime  of  the  Summer  Islands  by 
Whitefield's  labours  in  them,  Waller's  praise  might  be  taken  for 
literal  truth;  but  Whitefield  was  an  energetic  invalid.  The 
diary  of  his  two  months'  stay  on  the  island  is  an  agreeable 
renewal  of  that  journal  which  he  unfortunately  ceased  too  soon 
to  write.  Its  only  remarkable  difference  from  his  general  run 
of  narrative  is  the  half-amused  way  in  which  he  records  the 
wonder  of  the  great  men  at  his  preaching  without  notes.  A 
clergyman  invalid  who  could  preach  twice  a  day  and  travel 
considerable  distances  was  a  great  marvel,  but  a  clergyman 
who  used  no  '  minutes '  in  the  pulpit  was  a  greater.  There  was 
only  one  greater  degree  of  marvel  possible,  and  that  would 
have  been  a  clergyman  preaching  from  notes  to  Kingswood 
colliers  on  Hannam  Mount,  to  London  rabble  at  Moorfields 
Fair,  to  thirty  thousand  Scotchmen  who  were  full  of  anxiety 
about  their  salvation,  and  holding  them  in  rapt  attention. 
One  entry  from  the  journal  may  be  given  : — 

'  Sunday,  May  15th. — Praise  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  all  that  is  within 
thee  praise  His  holy  name  !  This  morning  I  preached  my  farewell  sermon 
at  Mr.  Paul's  meeting-house  ;  it  was  quite  full,  and  as  the  president  said, 
above  one  hundred  and  fifty  whites,  besides  blacks,  were  round  the  house. 
Attention  sat  on  every  face;  and  when  I  came  to  take  my  leave,  oh  !  what 
a  sweet  unaffected  weeping  was  to  be  seen  everywhere.     I  believe  there 


MISTAKES  CONFESSED  243 

were  few  dry  eyes.  The  Negroes  without  doors,  I  heard,  wept  plentifully. 
My  own  heart  was  affected,  and  though  I  have  parted  from  friends  so  often, 
yet  I  find  every  fresh  parting  almost  unmans  me,  and  very  much  affects  my 
heart.  Surely  a  great  work  is  begun  in  some  souls  in  Bermudas.  Carry 
it  on,  O  Lord ;  and  if  it  be  Thy  will,  send  me  to  this  dear  people  again  ! 
Even  so,  Lord  Jesus.     Amen. ' 

The  voyage  home  was  not  to  be  without  alarms,  though  it 
proved,  on  the  whole,  both  rapid  and  pleasant.  Those  dread- 
ful men-of-war  were  hanging  about  like  hungry  sharks,  and  on 
the  first  day  of  the  voyage  one  of  them  gave  chase;  and  when 
the  Betsy  approached  the  English  Channel,  where  they 
swarmed,  'a  large  French  vessel  shot  twice  at,  and  bore  down 
upon  us.  We  gave  up  all  for  gone.'  But  some  pang  of  com- 
passion or  a  panic  seized  the  Frenchman  ;  he  turned  about 
and  left  his  trembling  prey  unhurt. 

Whitefield  might  not  preach  during  this  voyage,  because  his 
health  was  so  impaired.  He  says  :  '  This  may  spare  my  lungs, 
but  it  grieves  my  heart.  I  long  to  be  ashore,  if  it  was  for  no 
other  reason.  Besides,  I  can  do  but  little  in  respect  to  my  writing. 
You  may  guess  how  it  is  when  we  have  four  gentlewomen  in 
the  cabin  ! '  However,  he  did  write,  and  finished  his  abridge- 
ment of  Law's  '  Serious  Call,'  which  he  endeavoured  to 
'  gospelise.'  His  journals,  too,  were  revised  ;  and  in  reference 
to  that  work,  he  makes  some  remarks  which  will  illustrate  his 
ingenuousness  of  temper.  The  revision  had  brought  under  his 
notice  many  things  that  his  maturer  judgment  and  calmer, 
though  not  less  earnest,  spirit  could  not  but  disapprove  of. 

'Alas,  alas  !'  he  says,  'in  how  many  things  have  I  judged  and  acted 
wrong.  I  have  been  too  rash  and  hasty  in  giving  characters,  both  of  places 
and  persons.  Being  fond  of  Scripture  language,  I  have  often  used  a  style 
too  apostolical,  and  at  the  same  time  I  have  been  too  bitter  in  my  zeal. 
Wild-fire  has  been  mixed  with  it ;  and  I  find  that  I  frequently  wrote  and 
spoke  in  my  own  spirit,  when  I  thought  I  was  writing  and  speaking  by  the 
assistance  of  the  Spirit  of  God.     I  have  likewise  too  much  made  inward 


244  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

impressions  my  rule  of  acting,  and  too  soon  and  too  explicitly  published 
what  had  been  better  kept  in  longer,  or  told  after  my  death.  By  these 
things  I  have  given  some  wrong  touches  to  God's  ark,  and  hurt  the  blessed 
cause  I  would  defend,  and  also  stirred  up  endless  opposition.  This  has 
humbled  me  much  since  I  have  been  on  board,  and  made  me  think  of  a 
saying  of  Mr.  Henry's,  "Joseph  had  more  honesty  than  he  had  policy,  or 
he  never  would  have  told  his  dreams."  At  the  same  time,  I  cannot  but 
bless  and  praise  and  magnify  that  gracious  God,  who  filled  me  with  so 
much  of  His  holy  fire,  and  carried  me,  a  poor  weak  youth,  through  such  a 
torrent  both  of  popularity  and  contempt,  and  set  so  many  seals  to  my  un- 
worthy ministrations.  I  bless  Him  for  ripening  my  judgment  a  little 
more,  for  giving  me  to  see  and  confess,  and  I  hope  in  some  degree  correct 
and  amend,  some  of  my  mistakes.  I  thank  God  for  giving  me  grace  to 
embark  in  such  a  blessed  cause,  and  pray  Him  to  give  me  strength  to  hold 
on  and  increase  in  zeal  and  love  to  the  end.' 

He  had  been  made  to  prove  the  truth  of  one  of  his  wise 
remarks,  '  God  always  makes  use  of  strong  passions  for  a  great 
work.'  Strong  passions  have  great  dangers ;  but  he  was  now 
beginning  to  understand  how  to  rule  them  with  a  firm  hand. 
Less  robust  in  health  than  when  he  last  returned  from  America, 
and  less  disposed  to  contend  with  those  that  differed  from  him, 
but  not  a  whit  less  zealous  or  self-sacrificing,  only  showing  the 
first  tints  of  mellow  ripeness  in  all  goodness,  he  stepped  again 
upon  English  soil  on  July  6,  1748. 


CHAPTER  X 
July,  1748-1752 

APPOINTED   CHAPLAIN    TO    THE   C3UNTBSS    OF   HUNTINGDON — A 
SLAVE-OWNER STONED    BEFORE    A    BISHOP 

THE  English  newspapers,  Whitefield  learned  on  his  arrival 
in  England,  had  interred  him  as  early  as  April  in  that 
year.  From  the  people  he  found  a  welcome  the  very  reverse 
of  that  which  had  pained  him  seven  years  before.  Thou- 
sands received  him  with  a  joy  that  almost  overcame  both  him 
and  them.  Their  love  and  devotion  to  him  humbled  him  to 
the  dust.  The  damaged  fortunes  of  the  Tabernacle  instantly 
revived  when  he  resumed  the  pulpit  and  the  management  of 
affairs.  One  church  also,  St.  Bartholomew's,  was  open  to  him ; 
and  there  he  preached  to  immense  congregations,  and  assisted 
in  administering  the  sacrament  to  a  thousand  communicants. 
Moorfields  was  as  white  as  ever  to  the  harvest. 

Many  tender  memories  were  awakened  by  the  return  home  ; 
and  his  affectionate  heart  yearned  towards  his  family  and 
friends.  Though  his  mother  had  remained  silent  during  all 
his  long  absence,  and  he  had  vainly  entreated  a  letter  from  her, 
one  of  his  first  acts  was  to  remember  her,  and  announce  by  a 
fctler  his  arrival.  A  kindly  greeting  was  sent  to  Wesley. 
Hervey,  one  of  Whitefield's  converts,  the  author  of  'Medi- 

245 


246  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

tations  among  the  Tombs,'  was  complimented  on  his  appear- 
ance as  an  author,  and  encouraged  to  persevere,  because  his 
writings  were  so  adapted  to  the  taste  of  the  polite  world. 
Times  have  greatly  changed  since  then,  and  taste  too.  Thus 
he  tried  to  keep  his  place  in  hearts  that  had  once  received 
him. 

An  unexpected  call  was  made  upon  him  on  the  occasion  of 
this  return.  Howel  Harris  had  instructions  to  take  him,  as 
soon  as  he  landed,  to  the  house  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon, 
at  Chelsea.  That  remarkable  woman  was  already  acquainted 
with  the  power  of  his  oratory  over  popular  assemblies,  for  she 
had  often  seen  and  felt  it ;  now  she  wanted  to  see  what  it 
could  avail  in  her  drawing-room  upon  the  hearts  of  high-born  / 
ladies  and  gentlemen.  It  does  not  appear  what  kind  of  an /[ 
audience  he  had  when  he  preached  in  her  house  the  first  two  ' 
times,  but  after  the  second  service  the  Countess  wrote  to 
inform  him  that  several  of  the  nobility  wished  to  hear  him,  if 
he  would  come  again.  In  a  few  days  a  brilliant  circle  was 
gathered  round  him,  and  he  spoke  to  them  with  all  his  usual 
unaffected  earnestness  and  natural  gracefulness,  while  they 
listened  with  attention  and  some  degree  of  emotion.  The 
Earl  of  Chesterfield  thanked  him,  and  paid  him  one  of  his 
studied,  high-mannered  compliments  at  the  close.  '  Sir,'  he 
said,  T  will  not  tell  you  what  I  shall  tell  others,  how  I  approve 
of  you.'  The  wife  of  Lord  Chesterfield  and  two  of  his  sisters, 
Lady  Gertrude  Hotham  and  the  Countess  Delitz,  became  con- 
sistent lifelong  disciples  of  the  new  teaching.  The  Earl 
himself  went  so  far  as  to  allow  Whitefield  the  use  of  Bretby 
Hall  in  Derbyshire  for  meetings.  Bolingbroke  was  afterwards 
prevailed  upon  to  come  ;  '  he  sat  like  an  archbishop,'  and  at 
the  conclusion  condescended  to  assure  Whitefield  that  he  had 
done  great  justice  to  the  Divine  attributes  in  his  discourse. 
In  a  letter  to  Lady  Huntingdon  he  said  :  '  Mr.  Whitefield  is 


DISTINGUISHED  HEARERS  247 

the  most  extraordinary  man  in  our  times.  He  has  the  most 
commanding  eloquence  I  ever  heard  in  any  person.'  Hume, 
also,  became  an  admirer  of  this  eloquence,  which  had  a  charm 
for  colliers  and  peers  ;  in  his  opinion  Whitefield  was  the  most 
ingenious  preacher  he  had  ever  heard  ;  it  was  worth  going 
twenty  miles  to  hear  him.  He  gives  a  remarkable  instance  of 
the  effect  with  which  Whitefield  once  employed  apostrophe, 
not,  of  course,  in  the  drawing-room  of  Chelsea. 

'Once  after  a  solemn  pause,  he  thus  addressed  his  audience:  "The 
attendant  angel  is  just  about  to  leave  the  threshold  of  this  sanctuary,  and 
ascend  to  heaven.  And  shall  he  ascend  and  not  bear  with  him  the  news  of 
one  sinner  amongst  all  this  multitude  reclaimed  from  the  error  of  his  way?" 
To  give  the  greater  effect  to  this  exclamation,  Whitefield  stamped  with  his 
foot,  lifted  up  his  hands  and  eyes  to  heaven,  and  cried  aloud,  "Stop, 
Gabriel,  stop,  ere  you  enter  the  sacred  portals,  and  yet  carry  with  you  the 
news  of  one  sinner  converted  to  God."  This  address  was  accompanied 
with  such  animated,  yet  natural,  action,  that  it  surpassed  anything  I  ever 
saw  or  heard  in  any  other  preacher. ' 

Within  a  fortnight  the  Countess  added  Whitefield's  name  to 
the  number  of  her  chaplains,  of  whom  Romaine  was  the  first 

This  work  among  the  nobility  will  shortly  demand  attention 
again  ;  and  in  the  meantime  we  notice  in  a  few  words  that, 
besides  a  flying  visit  to  Wales  this  autumn,  he  paid  a  third  visit 
to  Scotland,  where  he  had  to  mourn  the  death  of  many  of  his 
foremost  friends,  and  endure  the  usual  ecclesiastical  torment 
about  Church  government.  The  Synods  of  Glasgow,  of  Perth 
and  Stirling,  of  Lothian  and  Tweedale,  and  a  Presbytery — 
Edinburgh — wrangled,  or,  as  they  thought,  had  a  holy  con- 
tending, about  him,  whether  ministers  should  be  prohibited 
or  discouraged  from  employing  him.  '  The  more  I  was 
blackened,'  he  says,  '  the  more  the  Redeemer  comforted  me.' 
The  hearts  of  the  multitude  responded  to  him  as  before  ;  and 
his  visit  gave  him  great  cause  for  joy  and  thankfulness. 


248  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

One  symptom  began  to  show  itself  on  his  return,  which  was 
premonitory  of  sad  mischief.  When  he  went  into  Scotland, 
and  began  to  preach,  he  suffered  from  a  very  severe  hoarseness, 
and  when  he  reached  Topcliff,  on  his  way  back,  he  wrote  to  a 
friend  :  '  Though  I  do  not  preach,  yet  I  hope  I  am  preparing 
for  it.  Reading,  prayer,  and  meditation  are  the  three  necessary 
ingredients  for  it.  Riding  and  getting  proper  rest  have 
recruited  me  ;  but  I  am  apt  to  believe  I  have  strained  myself 
inwardly.  I  feel  sensible  pain  in  my  breath.  But  no  matter ; 
it  is  for  a  good  Master,  who  bore  inexpressible  pain  for  me.' 
That  pain  was  to  become  a  grievous  burden  through  many 
years  of  incredible  labour.  It  was  too  late  now  to  take  the| 
prudential  measures  which  he  felt  were  necessary  even  before 
he  started  for  Scotland. 

As  soon  as  he  reached  London,  November  ioth,  Lady 
Huntingdon  came  to  town,  and  made  arrangements  for  him  to 
preach  in  her  house  to  'the  great  and  noble.'  As  her  name 
and  his  become  inseparably  associated  from  this  time  forward 
to  the  end  of  his  life,  it  is  time  to  indicate  her  religious  position. 
Lady  Selina  Shirley  was  born  on  August  24,  1707 — seven 
years  before  Whitefield — and  was  married  to  Theophilus, 
ninth  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  on  June  3,  1728.  She  entered 
heartily  into  the  pleasures  and  duties  of  her  high  station,  was 
often  at  Court,  took  a  lively  interest  in  politics,  and  cared  for 
the  poor  on  her  husband's  estate.  She  determined  to  win  the 
favour  of  the  Almighty  and  everlasting  life  simply  by  her 
attention  to  moral  maxims,  without  any  reference  to  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ,  in  whom  alone  is  life.  It  happened,  however, 
that  Lady  Margaret  Hastings,  one  of  her  husband's  sisters, 
came  under  the  influence  of  those  new  doctrines  which  were 
winning  such  remarkable  triumphs ;  and  not  only  so,  she 
became  an  earnest  and  affectionate  teacher  of  them  to  her 
family  and  friends.     Among  other  things  she  one  day  made  a 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  HUNTINGDON  249 

remark  to  the  Countess  which  produced  a  deep  impression  ; 
it  was  this :  '  That  since  she  had  known  and  believed  in  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ  for  life  and  salvation,  she  had  been  as  happy 
as  an  angel.'  The  Countess  knew  that  she  herself  could  pre- 
tend to  no  such  joy.  The  thought  haunted  her,  and  made 
her  resolve  to  live  a  more  religious  life,  which,  according  to  her 
notions,  was  to  multiply  her  good  works  and  increase  her 
austerities.  This  brought  her  no  relief.  A  dangerous  illness 
then  fell  upon  her  ;  she  was  brought  nigh  to  death  ;  the  pros- 
pect was  terrible ;  her  conscience  was  restless ;  and  no 
remembrance  of  her  almsgivings  and  fastings  could  calm  it. 
Then  Lady  Margaret's  words  came  back  into  her  mind  with 
fresh  meaning  and  force,  and  she  learned  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  our  life  and  our  salvation.  Her  illness  left  her,  and  she 
arose  to  enter  upon  a  career  as  remarkable  as  that  of  any 
peeress  in  England. 

The  change  was  soon  manifest;  nor  were  Court  beauties,  such 
as  the  Duchess  of  Buckingham,  well  pleased  to  see  it.  They 
thought  that  the  Earl  might  very  properly  exert  his  authority 
to  unconvert  her;  for  it  was  not  to  be  borne  that  the  Methodists 
should  gain  a  Countess.  The  Earl  did  not  care  to  undertake 
the  task,  but  thought  that  a  conversation  with  his  former  tutor, 
Bishop  Benson,  might  do  her  good,  and  accordingly  recom- 
mended her  to  see  his  lordship.  The  bishop  came,  but  to  a 
much  harder  task  than  he  had  anticipated.  Turning  to  the 
Scriptures,  to  the  articles  and  the  homilies,  the  neophyte 
preached  to  him  his  duties  in  a  style  not  familiar  to  bishops' 
ears  :  she  would  not  relax  her  devotion  ;  he  must  increase  his. 
The  kind  man  was  ruffled,  and  was  departing  in  haste  and  in 
anger  at  having  ever  laid  hands  on  Whitefield,  whom  he 
blamed  for  the  conversion  of  the  Countess,  when  the  lady  said 
in  her  own  firm  way,  '  My  lord  !  mark  my  words  :  when  you 
are  on  your  dying  bed,  that  will  be  one  of  the  few  ordinations 
you  will  reflect  upon  with  complacence.' 


250  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

The  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  who  rather  yielded  to  his  wife's 
religious  zeal  than  toned  it  down  to  harmonise  with  his  colder 
feelings,  died  on  October  13,  1746,  leaving  the  Countess  in 
command  of  immense  wealth,  and  free  to  carry  out  her  wishes 
without  interference  from  any  one.  Everything  favoured  her 
assumption  of  that  position  she  was  soon  to  gain,  and  towards 
which  she  took  her  first  decisive  step,  when,  in  1748,  she 
appointed  Whitefield  her  chaplain.  Liberal  to  profusion  in 
her  gifts,  arbitrary  in  temper,  Calvinistic  in  creed,  consummate 
in  administrative  ability,  devout  in  spirit,  and  thoroughly  con- 
secrated to  the  glory  of  Christ,  she  was  unmistakably  the  proper  \ 
leader  of  the  Calvinistic  side  of  the  Methodist  body,  whether  \ 
in  or  out  of  the  Established  Church.  Whitefield  might  be  its 
great  preacher,  but  he  could  not,  and  cared  not  to  form  a 
party.  The  Countess  must  form  any  organisation  that  might 
be  required,  or  guide  any  movement. 

In  a  letter  to  Wesley,  Whitefield  thus  refers  to  the  question 
of  union  : — 

'  What  have  you  thought  about  a  union  ?  I  am  afraid  an  external  one 
is  impracticable.  I  find  by  your  sermons  that  we  differ  in  principles  more 
than  I  thought  ;  and  I  believe  we  are  upon  two  different  plans.  My 
attachment  to  America  will  not  permit  me  to  abide  very  long  in  England  ; 
consequently  I  should  but  weave  a  Penelope's  web  if  I  formed  societies  ; 
and  if  I  should  form  them  I  have  not  proper  assistants  to  take  care  of  them.  \ 
I  intend,  therefore,  to  go  about  preaching  the  gospel  to  every  creature.  \ 
You,  I  suppose,  are  for  settling  societies  everywhere  :  but  more  of  this 
when  we  meet.' 

About  this  time  Whitefield  ceased  to  be  moderator  of  the 
Calvinistic  Methodists,  and  henceforth  his  efforts  and  those  of 
Lady  Huntingdon  were  directed,  with  much  success,  to  the  object 
of  giving  an  evangelical  ministry  to  the  Church  of  England. 

The  following  are  some  of  the  great  and  noble  who  came 
to  the  preaching    in    the    drawing-room    of  the  Countess  of 


LORD  BOLINGBROKE  251 

Huntingdon  :  The  Duchess  of  Argyll,  Lady  Betty  Campbell, 
Bubb  Doddington,  George  Selwyn,  the  Duchess  of  Montagu, 
Lady  Cardigan,  Lord  Townshend,  Charles  Townshend,  Mr. 
Lyttleton,  Mr.  Pitt,  Lord  North,  Lord  Sandwich.  The 
doctrines  which  Whitefield  taught  found  other  believers 
besides  the  Countess.  The  first  Earl  of  Bath,  formerly  Mr. 
Pulteney,  was  one  of  these.  Lord  St.  John,  half-brother  of 
Bolingbroke,  seems  to  have  been  a  convert.  His  last  words, 
spoken  to  the  clergyman  who  attended  him,  were,  '  To  God  I 
commit  myself ;  I  feel  how  unworthy  I  am  ;  but  He  died  to 
save  sinners,  and  the  prayer  of  my  heart  now  to  Him  is,  God 
be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.'  Bolingbroke  was  only  moved  so  \1 
far  by  his  brother's  death  as  to  offer  himself  as  a  champion  of 
the  Calvinistic  doctrines ;  not  that  he  cared  for  them,  but  they 
had  a  philosophical  side,  and  he  would  not  object  to  stand  as 
the  philosopher  of  Calvinistic  Methodism.  '  You  may  com-  . 
mand  my  pen  when  you  will,'  he  said  to  the  Countess  ;  '  it  V 
shall  be  drawn  in  your  service.  For,  admitting  the  Bible  to 
be  true,  I  shall  have  little  apprehension  of  maintaining  the 
doctrines  of  predestination  and  grace  against  all  your  revilers.' 
What  would  have  been  the  issue  of  a  contest  between  Wesley 
and  his  lordship  on  the  five  points  ? 

The  eccentric  Lady  Townshend  was  one  of  the  first  to 
admire  Whitefield's  oratory ;  and  probably  she  did  so  quite  as 
much  because  such  admiration  was  unusual  among  her  friends 
as  because  the  oratory  was  noble  and  commanding.  When 
her  freakish  fancy  pointed  to  an  opposite  course,  she  was 
equally  ready  to  dislike  and  disparage  her  favourite.  With 
equal  facility  could  she  turn  Papist  as  Methodist ;  a  cathedral 
or  a  tabernacle  for  her  place  of  worship,  it  mattered  not  which, 
if  she  pleased  her  whim.  Once  Whitefield  cherished  some 
hope  of  her  conversion,  through  a  serious  illness  which  she 
had;  and  as  late  as    1775,    Lady  Huntingdon  wrote  to  her, 


252  GEORGE   WHITE FIELD 

when  she  was  again  in  a  similar  condition,  and  evidently 
indulged  in  hopes  such  as  had  previously  buoyed  Whitefield 
up.     She  seemed  to  prefer  Methodism  for  times  of  trial. 

The  Countess  of  Suffolk  was  neither  so  calmly  impartial  as 
Bolingbroke,  nor  so  obligingly  changeful  as  Lady  Townshend. 
Her  circumstances — the  loss  of  her  husband  and  only  son — at 
the  time  that  Lady  Guildford  took  her  to  the  Countess's  to 
hear  the  Methodist  chaplain,  might  have  been  thought  favour- 
able to  her  acceptance  of  the  truths  of  religion  :  but  she  was 
stung  and  enraged  by  every  word  which  Whitefield,  ignorant 
both  of  her  presence  and  her  condition,  said.  Her  self-control 
gave  way  as  soon  as  he  withdrew,  at  the  close  of  the  service. 
She  then  abused  Lady  Huntingdon  to  her  face,  in  the  presence 
of  the  illustrious  congregation,  and  '  denounced  the  sermon  as 
a  deliberate  attack  upon  herself.'  Her  relatives  who  were 
present — Lady  Betty  Germain,  Lady  Eleanor  Bertie,  and  the 
Dowager  Duchess  of  Ancaster — attempted  in  vain  alternately 
to  pacify  her,  by  explaining  to  her  that  she  was  mistaken,  and 
to  silence  her  by  command.  Thinking  herself  insulted,  she 
would  not  for  some  time  hear  reason  ;  but  at  length  she  was 
prevailed  upon  to  apologise,  though  only  with  a  bad  grace,  to 
Lady  Huntingdon  for  her  rudeness.  She  was  never  seen  again 
among  Whitefield's  hearers,  nor  did  she  ever  really  forgive  the 
Countess ;  on  her  death-bed  she  denied  the  Countess  per- 
mission to  come  and  speak  with  her. 

Lady  Fanny  Shirley,  an  aunt  of  Lady  Huntingdon,  the 
friend  and  neighbour  of  Pope,  and  the  rival  of  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montague,  became,  through  the  efforts  of  the  Countess 
Delitz,  a  conspicuous  member  of  the  aristocratic  Methodist 
circle,  and  had  her  change  of  mind  duly  chronicled  in  the 
gossiping  letters  of  Walpole. 

'  If  you  ever  think  of  returning  to  England,'  he  writes  to  Sir  Horace  Mann, 
'  as  I  hope  it  will  be  long  first,  you  must  prepare  yourself  with  Methodism. 


'MAKE  A  BISHOP  OF  HIM'  253 

I  really  believe  by  that  time  it  will  be  necessary  ;  this  sect  increases  as  fast 
almost  as  any  religious  nonsense  did.  Lady  Fanny  Shirley  has  chosen 
this  way  of  bestowing  the  dregs  of  her  beauty  ;  and  Mr.  Lyttleton  is  very 
near  making  the  same  sacrifice  of  the  dregs  of  all  those  various  characters 
that  he  has  worn.  The  Methodists  love  your  big  sinners,  as  proper  sub- 
jects to  work  upon — and  indeed  they  have  a  plentiful  harvest.' 

To  the  Countess  Delitz,  Whitefield  writes  in  a  manner 
which  shows  that  he  only  cared  for  his  introduction  to 
'society'  as  a  means  of  winning  souls.  'Ceiled  houses,  gaudy 
attire,  and  rich  furniture,  do  not  make  the  world  appear  less  a 
wilderness  to  a  mind  enlightened  to  see  the  beauties  of  Jesus 
of  Nazareth.' 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  Walpole  spoke  the  truth,  both 
about  the  rapid  increase  of  Methodism  and  its  love  for  big 
sinners ;  and  some  one  who  shared  his  alarm  at  its  advance, 
through  the  popularity  and  success  of  Whitefield,  even  ven- 
tured to  suggest  to  the  king  that  the  preacher  should  be 
restrained.  '  I  believe  the  best  way,'  said  the  king,  '  will  be  to 
make  a  bishop  of  him.' 

The  Countess  of  Huntingdon  told  Mr.  Barry,  R.A.,  a  story 
which  confirms  the  sneer  about  big  sinners.  He  reports  it 
thus  : — 

'  Some  ladies  called  one  Saturday  morning  to  pay  a  visit  to  Lady 
Huntingdon,  and  during  the  visit  she  inquired  of  them  if  they  had  ever 
heard  Mr.  Whitefield  preach.  Upon  being  answered  in  the  negative,  she 
said,  I  wish  you  would  hear  him  ;  he  is  to  preach  to-morrow  evening  at 
such  a  church  or  chapel,  the  name  of  which  the  writer  forgets — nor  is  it 
material.  They  promised  her  ladyship  they  would  certainly  attend.  They 
were  as  good  as  their  word  ;  and  upon  calling  on  the  Monday  morning  on 
her  ladyship,  she  anxiously  inquired  if  they  had  heard  Mr.  Whitefield,  and 
how  they  liked  him.  The  reply  was,  "Oh,  my  lady,  of  all  the  preachers 
we  ever  heard,  he  is  the  most  strange  and  unaccountable.  Among  other 
preposterous  things — would  your  ladyship  believe  it  ? — he  declared  that 
Jesus  Christ  was  so  willing  to  receive  sinners  that  He  did  not  object  to 
receive  even  the  devil's  castaways.  Now,  my  lady,  did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  thing  since  you  were  born  ? "     To  which  her  ladyship  made  the 


254  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

following  reply  :  "There  is  something,  I  acknowledge,  a  little  singular  in 
the  invitation,  and  I  do  not  recollect  to  have  ever  met  with  it  before ;  but 
as  Mr.  Whitefield  is  below  in  the  parlour,  we'll  have  him  up,  and  let  him 
answer  for  himself."  Upon  his  coming  up  into  the  drawing-room,  Lady 
Huntingdon  said:  "Mr.  Whitefield,  these  ladies  have  been  preferring  a 
very  heavy  charge  against  you,  and  I  thought  it  best  you  should  come  up 
and  defend  yourself.  They  say  that  in  your  sermon  last  evening,  in  speak- 
ing of  the  willingness  of  Jesus  Christ  to  receive  sinners,  you  expressed 
yourself  in  the  following  terms :  That  so  ready  was  Christ  to  receive 
sinners  who  came  to  Him,  that  he  was  willing  to  receive  even  the  devil's 
castaways."  Mr.  Whitefield  immediately  replied,  "I  certainly,  my 
lady,  must  plead  guilty  to  the  charge  ;  whether  I  did  what  was  right  or 
otherwise,  your  ladyship  shall  judge  from  the  following  circumstance : 
Did  your  ladyship  notice,  about  half  an  hour  ago,  a  very  modest  single  rap 
at  the  door  ?  It  was  given  by  a  poor,  miserable-looking  aged  female,  who 
requested  to  speak  with  me.  I  desired  her  to  be  shown  into  the  parlour, 
when  she  accosted  me  in  the  following  manner :  '  I  believe,  sir,  you 
preached  last  evening  at  such  a  chapel?'  '  Yes,  I  did.'  'Ah,  sir,  I  was 
accidentally  passing  the  door  of  that  chapel,  and  hearing  the  voice  of  some 
one  preaching,  I  did  what  I  have  never  been  in  the  habit  of  doing— I  went 
in  ;  and  one  of  the  first  things  I  heard  you  say  was,  that  Jesus  Christ  was 
so  willing  to  receive  sinners,  that  he  did  not  object  to  receive  the  devil's 
castaways.  Now,  sir,  I  have  been  on  the  town  for  many  years,  and  am  so 
worn  out  in  his  service,  that  I  think  I  may  with  truth  be  called  one  of  his 
castaways.  Do  you  think,  sir,  that  Jesus  Christ  would  receive  me  ? ' " 
Mr.  Whitefield  assured  her  that  there  was  no  doubt  of  it,  if  she  was  but 
willing  to  go  to  Him.  From  the  sequel,  it  appeared  that  it  was  the  case, 
and  that  it  ended  in  the  sound  conversion  of  this  poor  creature,  and  Lady 
Huntingdon,  was  assured,  on  most  respectable  authority,  that  the  woman 
left  a  very  charming  testimony  behind  her  that,  though  her  sins  had  been 
of  a  crimson  hue,  the  atoning  blood  of  Christ  had  washed  them  white  as 
snow.' 


Whitefield's  labours  among  the  rich  were  relieved  by  the 
more  congenial  work  of  visiting  some  of  the  provincial  towns. 
From  Gloucester  he  wrote  a  letter  to  the  Trustees  of  Georgia, 
which  is  painful  to  read,  for  its  defence  of  slavery ;  nay,  worse 
than  that,  its  entreaty  that  slavery  might  be  introduced  where 
it  did  not  already  exist.  The  profit  of  the  slave  trade  was  now 
becoming  so  great  that  all  who  had  any  interest  in  its  extension 


w 


DR.    WATTS  255 

were  clamouring  to  have  restrictions  removed.  The  mercenary 
spirit  was  blind  and  deaf  to  the  griefs  and  wrongs  of  the  poor 
African  ;  and  it  is  deplorable  that  Whitefield,  one  of  the  most 
generous  and  self-denying  of  men,  should  have  been  affected 
with  the  popular  tone  of  thought  and  feeling.  It  was  often 
said,  when  slavery  was  the  '  domestic  institution  '  of  America, 
that  contact  with  it  too  frequently  dulled  conscience,  and 
turned  anti-slavery  men  into  pro-slavery  men  ;  and  from  that 
letter  which,  under  the  first  burst  of  indignation  at  the  sight  of 
shameful  cruelties,  Whitefield  wrote  to  the  inhabitants  of  South 
Carolina,  it  would  seem  that  he  was  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

Whitefield  is  seen,  at  the  end  of  1748,  in  kindly  and  close 
communion  with  the  two  foremost  Nonconformists  of  his  day. 
On  November  25th,  he  called  at  Lady  Abney's  to  see  Dr. 
Watts,  who  described  himself  as  '  a  waiting  servant  of  Christ.'  V 
He  helped  to  raise  the  venerable  man  to  take  some  medicine ; 
and  within  half  an  hour  of  his  departure  from  the  house, 
the  '  servant '  had  ceased  his  waiting,  and  entered  into  the  joy 
of  his  Lord. 

Whitefield's  letter  to  Doddridge,  on  December  21st,  is  full 
of  brotherly  sympathy  with  the  doctor  in  his  trouble  through 
the  Moravians,  who  had  disturbed  his  congregation.  White- 
field  had  felt  all  the  annoyance  of  having  his  work  damaged  and 
broken  by  meddling  men,  and  could  thoroughly  enter  into 
Doddridge's  feelings.  He  speaks  as  a  chastened,  humbled, 
submissive,  charitably-minded  man,  not  blaming  his  troublers 
more  than  he  condemns  himself,  and  gratefully  acknowledging 
the  personal  benefit  that  their  conduct,  under  the  Divine 
blessing,  had  been  to  him.  It  is  with  touching  humility  that 
he  refe.s  to  those  dark  days  when  he  came  from  America  and 
found  his  converts  turned  against  him.     He  says — 

'  The  Moravians  first  divided  my  family,  then  my  parish  at  Georgia,  and 
after  that  the  societies  which,  under  God,  I  was  an  instrument  of  gathering. 


\ 


256  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

I  suppose  not  less  than  four  hundred,  through  their  practices,  have  left  the 
Tabernacle.  But  I  have  been  forsaken  other  ways.  I  have  not  had  above 
a  hundred  to  hear  me  where  I  had  twenty  thousand,  and  hundreds  now 
assemble  within  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  me  who  never  come  to  see  or 
speak  to  me,  though  they  must  own  at  the  great  day  I  was  their  spiritual 
father.  All  this  I  find  but  little  enough  to  teach  me  to  cease  from  man, 
and  to  wean  me  from  that  too  great  fondness  which  spiritual  fathers  are  apt 
to  have  for  their  spiritual  children.' 

It  is  not  less  pleasant  to  find  Whitefield  and  his  old  tutor 

together  again  at  Bristol.     Dr.  R was  now  a  prebendary, 

and  when  Whitefield  called  upon  him  he  received  him  gladly. 
They  talked  about  the  Church  and  Methodism  ;  and  Whitefield 
told  him  that  his  judgment  was  riper  than  it  had  been  at  the 
outset  of  his  career,  and  that  as  fast  as  he  found  out  his  faults 
he  should  be  glad  to  acknowledge  them.  The  prebendary 
replied  that  as  Whitefield  grew  moderate,  the  offence  of  the 
bishops  and  other  dignitaries  would  wear  away — a  change  which 
Whitefield  would  have  hailed  with  satisfaction,  though  he  was 
content  to  be  under  displeasure ;  his  great  anxiety  was  to  act 
an  honest  part  and  keep  from  trimming.  This  is  the  last 
glimpse  we  shall  get  of  the  kindly  man,  who  did  Whitefield 
no  slight  service  by  his  fatherly  oversight,  when  misguided 
earnestness  and  anxiety  in  religion  might  have  ruined  White- 
field's  energies  for  life. 

The  winter's  work  among  the  nobility  damaged  Whitefield's 
health  not  a  little.  He  was  glad  to  get  away  into  the  west,  to 
revisit  some  of  his  former  places  of  labour — Bristol,  Plymouth, 
Exeter,  Gloucester.  Between  January  28  and  March  10, 
1749,  this  feeble,  suffering  man  performed  a  journey  of  six 
hundred  miles,  preaching  as  frequently  as  he  ever  had  done  in 
the  days  of  health,  and,  notwithstanding  the  unseasonable 
time  of  the  year  for  open-air  services,  often  in  the  open  air. 
His  life  was  a  faithful  embodiment  of  some  of  his  happy 
sayings — such  as,   '  I  do  not  preach  for  life,  but  from  life ; ' 


NOT  A  SECTARIAN  257 

'Like  a  pure  crystal,  I  would  transmit  all  the  glory  that  God 
is  pleased  to  pour  upon  me,  and  never  claim  as  my  own  what 
is  His  sole  property.'  It  was  with  much  reluctance  that  he 
thought  of  turning  from  his  beloved  '  ranging '  to  renew  his 
work  in  the  Countess's  house.  The  same  diffidence  which 
made  him  shrink  from  encountering  the  shocks  of  life,  when 
he  approached  the  American  coast  on  his  second  visit  to 
America,  made  him  write  to  his  friend  Hervey — 

'  Lady  Huntingdon  writes  me  word  that  "  the  prospect  of  doing  gcod  at 
my  return  to  London  is  very  encouraging."  Thither  I  am  now  bound.  I 
go  with  fear  and  trembling,  knowing  how  difficult  it  is  to  speak  to  the 
great,  so  as  to  win  them  to  Jesus  Christ.  .  .  .  My  dear  brother,  fail  not  to 
pray  for  me,  that  I  may  hold  on  and  hold  out  to  the  end,  and  in  prosperity 
and  adversity,  press  forward  with  an  even,  meek,  and  lowly  mind  towards 
the' mark  for  the  prize  of  our  high  calling  in  Christ  Jesus.' 

In  quite  the  same  spirit  he  says  to  the  same  friend,  a  few 
weeks  later — 

'  You  judge  right  when  you  say,  it  is  your  opinion  that  I  do  not  want  to 
make  a  sect,  or  set  myself  at  the  head  of  a  party.  No  ;  let  the  name  of 
Whitefield  die,  so  that  the  cause  of  Jesus  Christ  may  live.  I  have  seen 
enough  of  popularity  to  be  sick  of  it,  and  did  not  the  interest  of  my  blessed 
Master  require  my  appearing  in  public,  the  world  should  hear  but  little  oi 
me  henceforward.' 

To  one  brother  minister  he  says :  '  I  am  glad  your  children 
grow  so  fast ;  they  become  fathers  soon  ;  I  wish  some  may 
not  prove  dwarfs  at  last.  A  word  to  the  wise  is  sufficient.  I 
have  always  found  awakening  times  like  spring  times  :  many 
blossoms,  but  not  always  so  much  fruit.' 

But  other  work  than  preaching  demanded  his  attention  ;  for 
it  was  no  idle  word  which  he  spoke  to  his  old  tutor,  when  he 
told  him  that  he  wottld  acknowledge  his  faults  as  fast  as 
he  found  them  out.     The   Bishop  of  Exeter,  Dr.    Lavingtpn, 

18 


258  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

furnished  him  with  a  fine  opportunity  of  retraeting  many 
blameworthy  words  and  deeds ;  and  no  part  of  his  life  is  more 
remarkable  than  this  for  its  exhibition  of  frankness  and 
humility.  The  bishop  wrote,  in  1747,  when  Whitefield  was 
absent  in  America,  a  treatise  on  '  The  Enthusiasm  of  the 
Methodists  and  Papists,'  in  which  he  attempted  to  draw  a 
parallel  between  the  old  Church  and  the  new  sect,  or  rather 
the  new  men  of  his  own  Church.  The  subject  was  tempting 
to  an  enemy ;  and  the  argument  adopted  valid,  if  everything 
belonging  to  Popery  be  evil.  The  syllogism  was  :  Everything 
belonging  to  Popery  is  bad  ;  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Methodist 
and  Papists  is  the  same ;  therefore  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
Methodists  is  bad.  The  identity  of  Methodist  and  Popish 
enthusiasm  is  traced  with  much  patience  and  astounding 
malevolence  through  nine  characteristics.  Dominicans, 
Franciscans,  and  Jesuits  are  shown  to  be  the  true  forerunners 
of  Whitefield  and  Wesley  ! 

There  is  only  one  thing  more  painful  than  the  reading  of 
such  unscrupulous  attacks,  and  it  is  the  assurance  of  Arch- 
deacon More  that  the  assertion  that  '  Bishop  Lavington  in  his 
latter  days  repented  of  his  writings  against  the  Methodists,  I 
know  to  be  without  foundation,  as  far  as  his  conversation 
could  afford  assurance  to  the  contrary.  To  the  very  last  he 
always  spoke  of  them  as  a  fraternity  compounded  of  hypocrites 
and  enthusiasts.' 

A  crushing  answer  might  have  been  penned  by  any  honest 
man  ;  but  Whitefield's  '  Remarks  upon  the  Pamphlet,'  as  he 
calls  his  reply,  are  better  than  any  formal  answer.  Their 
spirit  is  something  wonderful ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  turn 
from  perusing  the  bishop's  slanders  and  abuse,  to  read  White- 
field's  reply,  without  feeling  how  good  and  blessed  a  thing  is 
an  honest,  forgiving  heart.  Lavington  had  said  that  the 
Methodist  preachers,  like  St.  Anthony,  were  attended   by  'a 


BISHOP  LA  VI NG TON'S  ATTACK  259 

sturdy  set  of  followers,  as  their  guards,  armed  with  clubs  under 
their  clothes,  menacing  and  terrifying  such  as  should  speak 
lightly  of  their  apostle.' 

'You  add,'  says  Whitefield,  '  "  I  have  heard  it  often  affirmed  ;  "  and  so 
might  the  heathens  have  said  that  they  heard  it  often  affirmed,  that  when 
the  primitive  Christians  received  the  blessed  sacrament,  they  killed  a  young 
child,  and  then  sucked  its  blood.  But  was  that  any  reason  why  they 
should  believe  it?  It  is  true,  indeed,  some  of  the  Methodist  preachers 
have  more  than  once  been  attended  with  a  sturdy  set  of  followers,  armed 
with  clubs  and  other  weapons,  not  as  their  guards,  but  opposers  and 
persecutors ;  and  who  have  not  only  menaced  and  terrified,  but  actually 
abused  and  beat  many  of  those  who  came  to  hear  him  whom  you,  I 
suppose,  would  call  their  apostle.  Both  Methodist  preachers  and 
Methodist  hearers,  too,  for  want  of  better  arguments,  have  often  felt  the 
weight  of  such  irresistible  power,  which,  literally  speaking,  hath  struck 
many  of  them  dumb,  and  I  verily  believe,  had  it  not  been  for  some 
superior,  invisible  guard,  must  have  struck  them  dead.  These  are  all  the 
sturdy  set  of  armed  followers  that  the  Methodists  know  of.  And  whatever 
you  may  unkindly  insinuate  about  my  being  aware  of  a  turbulent  spirit,  a 
fighting  enthusiasm  amongst  them,  because  I  said,  "  I  dread  nothing  more 
than  the  false  zeal  of  my  friends  in  a  suffering  hour,"'  I  think  many  years' 
experience  may  convince  the  world  that  the  weapons  of  their  warfare,  like 
those  of  their  blessed  Redeemer  and  His  apostles,  have  not  been  carnal ; 
but,  thanks  be  to  God,  however  you  may  ridicule  His  irresistible  power, 
they  have,  through  Him,  been  mighty  to  the  pulling  down  of  Satan's 
strongholds  in  many  a  sturdy  sinner's  heart.' 

Whitefield  confessed  that  '  there  is  generally  much — too 
much — severity  in  our  first  zeal ;  at  least  there  was  in  mine  ; ' 
also  that  his  and  Seward's  treatment  of  Archbishop  Tillotson 
'  was  by  far  too  severe.  We  condemned  his  state,  when  we 
ought  only,  in  a  candid  manner,  which  I  would  do  again  if 
called  to  it,  to  have  mentioned  what  we  judged  wrong  in  his 
doctrines.  I  do  not  justify  it.  I  condemn  myself  most 
heartily,  and  ask  pardon  for  it,  as  I  believe  he  (Seward)  would 
do,  were  he  now  alive.  But  then,  do  not  you  still  go  on, 
sir,  to  imitate  us  in  our  faults  ;  let  the  surviving  Methodists 


260  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

answer  for  themselves ;  let  Seward  and  Tillotson  lie  undis- 
turbed.' Whitefield  adds,  on  the  subject  of  desiring  persecution  : 
'  Whatever  can  be  produced  out  of  any  of  my  writings  to  prove 
that  I  have  desired  or  prayed  for  ill-usage,  persecution, 
martyrdom,  death,  &c,  I  retract  it  with  all  my  heart,  as 
proceeding  from  the  overflowings  of  an  irregular,  though  well- 
meant  zeal.'  He  also  thanks  Lavington  for  pointing  out  the 
'  very  wrong  expression  '  about  the  '  hosannas  of  the  multitude.' 
'Your  remark,'  he  says,  'runs  thus:  "Very  profane,  unless  it 
be  a  false  print  for  huzzas."  I  could  wish  it  had  been  so,  but 
the  word  was  my  own  ;  and  though  not  intended  to  convey  a 
profane  idea,  was  very  wrong  and  unguarded,  and  I  desire 
may  be  buried  in  oblivion,  unless  you,  or  some  other  kind 
person,  are  pleased  to  remind  me  of  it,  in  order  to  lay  me  low 
before  God  and  man.'  The  last  admission  of  all,  that  he  was 
wrong  in  making  public  the  lot  Wesley  cast  in  private,  is  worth 
all  the  rest,  and  does  honour  to  Whitefield's  candour ;  it  is  a 
perfect  atonement  for  his  fault. 

The  whole  of  the  summer,  and  the  early  part  of  the  autumn, 
of  1749,  were  spent  in  a  tour  through  the  west  and  through 
Wales,  thousands  answering  his  call,  and  coming  as  of  old, 
even  when  the  rain  rendered  an  open-air  service  both  uncom- 
fortable and  dangerous.  For  two  days  he  sought  retirement  in 
his  wife's  house  at  Abergavenny  (she  was  now  on  her  way 
from  Bethesda  to  join  him),  and  found  it  '  so  very  sweet,'  that 
he  would  have  been  glad  never  to  have  been  heard  of  again. 
From  thence  he  wrote  to  his  brother  at  Bristol  a  letter  which 
exhibits  so  many  sides  of  his  life  and  character  that  it  demands 
a  place  in  his  biography  : — 

'  My  very  dear  Brother, — Enclosed  you  have  a  letter  from  out 
good  Lady  Huntingdon,  whom,  I  suppose,  you  will  have  the  honour  of 
receiving  in  a  few  days  under  your  roof.  Both  before  and  ever  since  I  left 
Bristol,  I  have  been  frequently  thinking  of  the  unspeakable  mercies  that 


A  BROTHER'S  LOVE  261 

the  infinitely  great  and  glorious  God  is  pleased  to  pour  down  upon  us. 
Surely  the  language  of  both  our  hearts  ought  to  be,  "  What  shall  we  render 
unto  the  Lord?  "  For  my  part,  I  am  lost  in  wonder,  and  want  a  thousand 
lives  to  spend  in  the  Redeemer's  service.  Oh,  let  not  my  dear  brother  be 
angry  if  I  entreat  him  at  length  to  leave  off  killing,  and  begin  to  redeem, 
lime.  A  concern  for  your  eternal  welfare  so  affects  me,  that  it  often  brings 
bodily  sickness  upon  me,  and  drives  me  to  a  throne  of  grace,  to  wrestle  in 
your  behalf.  Even  now,  whilst  I  am  writing,  my  soul  is  agonising  in 
prayer  for  you,  hoping  I  shall  see  that  day  when  you  will  have  poured  out 
on  you  a  spirit  of  grace  and  of  supplication,  and  look  to  Him  whom  we  have 
pierced,  and  be  made  to  mourn  as  one  mourneth  for  a  first-born.  Till  this 
be  done,  all  resolutions,  all  schemes  for  amendment,  will  be  only  like 
spiders'  webs.  Nature  is  a  mere  Froteus,  and  till  renewed  by  the  Spirit  of 
God,  though  it  may  shift  its  scene,  will  be  only  nature  still.  Apply  then, 
my  dearest  brother,  to  the  fountain  of  light  and  life,  from  whence  every 
good  and  perfect  gift  cometh. 

'  A  worthy  woman,  in  all  probability,  is  going  to  throw  herself  under 
God  into  your  hands.  A  considerable  addition  will  then  be  made  to  your 
present  talents,  and  consequently  a  greater  share  of  care  and  circumspec- 
tion necessary  to  improve  all  for  the  glory  of  Him  who  hath  been  always 
preventing  and  following  you  with  His  blessings.  Should  you  prove  any 
otherwise  than  a  pious  husband,  it  will  be  one  of  the  greatest  afflictions  I 
ever  met  with  in  my  life.  At  present  you  can  only  hurt  yourself,  which  is 
hurt  enough  ;  but  then,  forgive  me,  my  dear  brother,  I  am  jealous  over 
you  with  a  godly  jealousy.  My  tears  shall  be  turned  into  prayers,  and  I 
will  follow  this  letter  with  strong  crying  unto  God  in  your  behalf.  My 
retirement  here  these  two  days  hath  been  very  sweet  ;  but  to-morrow  I 
begin  a  three  weeks'  circuit.  Next  Sabbath  I  am  to  be  at  Carmarthen  ; 
the  Friday  following  at  Haverford  West.  For  the  present,  adieu.  That 
you  may  take  Christ  to  be  your  all  in  all,  and  that  the  remainder  of  your 
life  may  be  one  continued  sacrifice  of  love  to  Him  who  hath  shed  His 
precious  blood  for  you,  is  the  hearty  prayer  of,  my  dear  brother, 

'  Yours  most  affectionately 

'George  Whitefield.' 

These  prayers  appear  to  have  been  answered. 

His  work  among  the  rich  was  done  with  a  scrupulous  dis- 
regard of  all  self-interest.  To  a  friend,  who  thought  that 
Whitefield  had  carried  religion  very  near  the  Court,  if  not  quite 
into  it,  and  that  he  might  have  influence  enough  to  secure  the 
appointment  of  a  religious  governor  to  some  colony  where  a 


X 


262  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

governor  was  wanted,  he  replied  that  he  should  be  very  shy  to 
ask  favours,  even  if  he  had  interest  at  Court,  lest  he  should  be 
thought  to  preach  for  himself  and  not  for  Christ  Jesus,  his 
Lord,  and  because  he  would  fain  convince  all  that  he  sought 
not  theirs,  but  them.  Yet  he  would  use  his  influence  with 
equal  freedom  in  other  quarters,  and  especially  if  it  was  for 
any  one  in  more  than  usually  humble  circumstances.  Such  a 
worthy  object  came  under  his  notice  during  this  tour,  an 
obscure  Dissenting  minister,  who  had  sold  part  of  his  library 
to  finish  the  meeting-house  in  which  he  preached,  whose  dress 
was  very  mean — as  well  it  might  be,  seeing  he  had  but  three 
pounds  per  annum  from  a  fund,  and  the  same  sum  from  his 
people — who  lived  very  low,  but  enjoyed  much  of  God,  and 
who  was  something  of  a  poet ;  for  Whitefield  found  that  he  had 
as  good  an  understanding  of  the  figurative  parts  of  Scripture  as 
any  one  that  '  he  knew  of  in  the  world.'  How  could  he  for- 
bear using  his  interest  with  a  rich  and  benevolent  friend  for 
such  a  '  poor,  despised,  faithful  minister  of  Christ  ?  '  So  he  hints 
that  four  or  five  guineas  might  be  bestowed  on  this  Zachary, 
who  had  also  a  faithful  Elizabeth. 

A  hard  task  was  it  for  him  to  inspire  other  hearts  with  as- 
much  moral  courage  as  always  bore  up  his  own.  By  word,  as 
well  as  by  example,  by  reproach,  and  by  loving  persuasion,  he 
would  try  to  free  the  fearful  from  the  fear  of  man,  which 
hindered  their  full  and  self-denying  consecration  to  the  will  of 
Jesus  Christ.  One  of  the  most  difficult  cases  he  ever  had  to 
manage  was  that  of  Dr.  Stonehouse,  of  Northampton,  an 
eminent  physician,  a  friend  of  Doddridge,  and  a  man  of  great 
refinement.  Many  were  the  expostulations  of  the  bold 
evangelist  before  the  shrinking  man  could  be  brought  to  a  firm 
stand,  but  at  last  it  was  done. 

On  the  day  of  his  arrival  at  Bristol  after  a  month's  circuit 
he  gives  this  account  of  his  work  :  — 


NOT  ONE  DRY  MEETING  263 

'  Yesterday  God  brought  me  here,  after  having  carried  me  a  circuit  of 
about  eight  hundred  miles,  and  enabled  me  to  preach,  I  suppose,  to 
upwards  of  a  hundred  thousand  souls.  I  have  been  in  eight  Welsh 
counties,  and  I  think  we  have  not  had  one  dry  meeting.  The  work  in 
Wales  is  much  upon  the  advance,  and  likely  to  increase  daily.  Had  my 
dear  Mr.  Hervey  been  there  to  have  seen  the  simplicity  of  so  many  dear 
souls,  I  am  persuaded  he  would  have  said,  M  Sit  aniiiia  mea  cum  Metho- 
distis!"  But  every  one  to  his  post.  During  this  excursion  I  have  been 
kept  happy  inwardly,  and  well  in  body  till  the  latter  end  of  last  week,  when 
the  Lord  was  pleased  to  lay  His  hand  upon  me.  so  that  I  was  almost 
brought  to  the  crave.     But  lie  that  wounds  heals  also.' 


Soon  afterwards  Whitefield  resumed  his  work  in  London  for 
a  little  while,  and  then  returned  into  the  west,  where  Methodist 
doctrines  were  agitating  all  minds,  and  where  he  was  an 
especial  object  of  interest,  on  account  of  his  reply  to  the  first 
part  of  Bishop  Lavington's  pamphlet.  The  journey  has  as  many 
incidents  as  would  form  the  remarkable  parts  of  many  a  life, 
but  in  this  career  they  are  in  danger  of  being  passed  over  as 
commonplace.  It  would  be  a  rare  thing  in  the  life  of  any 
clergyman  were  he,  on  being  recognised  as  he  passed  through 
a  town,  to  be  asked  and  entreated  by  a  humble,  unknown 
woman  to  stay  and  give  the  people  a  sermon  ;  and  upon  con- 
senting to  do  so,  soon  to  find  himself  surrounded  '  with  a  great 
company.'  And  the  next  day  the  congregation  at  the  same 
place  was  still  greater.  This  happened  at  Wellington  when 
Whitefield  rode  through  it. 

All  along  his  way  he  found  the  good  seed  of  past  sowing 
times  springing  up  and  promising  an  abundant  harvest.  At 
Plymouth  the  wonderful  power  which  attended  his  first  visit 
was  making  things  look  quite  new.  His  pamphlet  in  reply  to 
the  bishop  had  been  useful  to  some  ;  its  candour  and  simplicity 
deserved  nothing  less.  The  bishop,  when  asked  by  some  one 
if  he  had  seen  it,  replied,  '  Yes :  Whitefield  writes  like  an 
honest  man,  and  has  recanted  several  things ;  but  he  goes  on 


264  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

in  the  same  way  yet.'  His  loidship  also  promised  a  second 
part  of  his  pamphlet,  which  in  due  time  appeared  ;  but  as  it 
was  mainly  directed  against  Wesley,  in  Wesley's  hands 
Whitefield  was  content  to  leave  it. 

The  bishop  was  troubled  with  Methodists  in  his  own  diocese, 
and  among  his  own  clergy,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thompson,  vicar  of 
St.  Gennis,  being  one  of  these  undesirable  'sons.'  When 
Lavington  threatened  him  to  his  face  that  he  would  pull  off 
his  gown,  Thompson  immediately  pulled  it  off  himself,  and 
throwing  it  at  the  feet  of  the  astounded  bishop,  exclaimed, 
'  I  can  preach  the  gospel  without  a  gown.'  The  bishop 
thought  it  was  best  to  send  for  him,  and  try  to  soothe  him. 
Next  he  had  the  mortification  of  seeing  Whitefield  welcomed 
to  Thompson's  house,  from  whence  he  had  thought  to  banish 
him,  and  the  two  friends  fraternising  with  such  cordiality  as 
only  men  whose  endangered  friendship  has  stood  firm  can 
feel. 

The  bishop  was  not,  however,  to  go  without  his  gratification. 
In  his  presence,  and  in  that  of  many  of  his  clergy,  Whitefield 
I  was  for  the  fourth  time  violently  assaulted  while  preaching  the 
gospel.  The  blow  of  a  cudgel  at  Basingstoke,  the  thump  of  a 
sod  from  a  Staffordshire  heathen,  and  the  pelting  with  the 
refuse  of  a  Moorfield's  fair,  were  followed  by  a  stunning  blow 
from  a  great  stone,  which  struck  deep  into  Whitefield's  head, 
and  almost  rolled  him  off  the  table,  from  which,  amidst  an 
awful  stillness,  he  was  addressing  ten  thousand  hearers  at 
Exeter.  A  second  stone,  also  meant  for  him,  struck  a  poor 
man  quite  to  the  ground.  A  third,  aimed  at  the  same  object, 
fell  and  did  no  damage.  This  was  done  in  the  presence  of  the 
man  who  had  unblushingly  repeated  the  lie,  that  Methodist 
preachers  were  often  attended  with  a  set  of  sturdy  fellows 
carrying  clubs  under  their  clothes  to  make  the  congregations 
reverence  their  preaching  apostle  ;  nor  did  he  mount  the  table 


STONED  BEFORE  A   BISHOP  265 

to  express  his  shame  and  regret  at  being  the  witness  of  such 
an  outrage,  neither  did  he  act  the  part  of  the  kind  Samaritan 
to  the  injured  man.  The  only  alleviating  thought  to  this  story  is 
that  the  bishop  and  his  clergy  do  not  seem  to  have  been  accessory 
to  the  assault.  Whitefield,  never  wishful  to  magnify  his  deeds 
and  sufferings,  nor  to  exaggerate  another's  fault,  simply  says 
that  it  was  '  a  drunken  man  '  who  threw  three  great  stones  at 
him  ;  but  the  assailant  must  have  been  tolerably  sober  when 
once  he  aimed  so  well  as  to  hit  his  man  on  the  head,  and  the 
next  time  threw  with  such  force  as  to  lay  a  man  on  the  ground  ; 
neither  do  drunken  men  often  manage  to  carry  three  large 
stones  into  a  dense  crowd.1 

Weak  and  suffering,  yet  a  moral  conqueror,  Whitefield  re- 
turned to  London,  not  forgetting  on  his  way  to  call  at  Dorchester 
Gaol  to  comfort  John  Haime,  a  soldier  who  had  headed  a 

1  It  would  have  been  more  becoming  a  Christian  bishop  had  Dr.  Laving- 
ton  tried  to  reform  the  heathen  of  Exeter,  instead  of  wasting  his  time  in 
slandering  others  who  did  his  neglected  work.  For  the  sake  of  truth  it 
should  be  stated  that  the  city  had  a  band  of  ruffians  called  '  Church 
Rabble,'  or  '  The  God-damn-me  Crew,'  who  carried  persecution  to  every 
length  short  of  death.  In  1745,  the  crew,  led  by  a  bailiff,  a  sexton,  a  parish- 
clerk,  and  several  tradesmen,  and  encouraged  by  many  '  gentlemen,'  who 
\  laced  themselves  in  windows  to  see  the  obscene  sport,  abused  the  Metho- 
dists as  they  would,  neither  the  mayor  nor  the  magistrates  interfering  to 
stop  them.  They  kicked  the  men  and  subjected  them  to  every  abuse  and 
indignity.  They  rubbed  the  faces  of  the  women  with  lamp-black  and  oil  ; 
they  beat  their  breasts  with  their  clenched  fists  ;  they  stripped  them  almost 
naked,  then  turned  the  rest  of  their  clothes  over  their  heads,  and  in  that 
condition  kicked  or  dragged  them  along  the  street,  or  rolled  them  in  the 
gutters  or  in  mud-heaps  prepared  for  them.  To  save  herself  from  one  of 
the  mob  who  attempted  even  worse  outrage,  one  woman  leaped  from  the 
gallery  of  the  meeting-house  to  the  floor.  The  riot  lasted  for  hours,  and  in 
the  presence  of  thousands. — See  'An  Account  of  a  late  Riot  at  Exeter,'  by 
John  Cennick,  1745;  and  'A  brief  Account  of  the  late  Persecution  and 
Barbarous  Usage  of  the  Methodists  at  Exeter,'  by  an  Impartial  Hand, 
1746.  The  riot  occurred  in  1745  ;  Eavington's  Treatise  was  written  jn 
1747  ;  Whitefield  was  assaulted  in  1749. 


266  GEORGE   Iff //TEE/ELD 

revival  movement  among  his  comrades  in  Flanders,  and  since 
his  return  home  had  preached  in  Methodist  fashion,  and  been 
rewarded  for  his  zeal  by  a  place  among  knaves  and  felons  ! 

Whitefield's  '  grand  catholicon '  under  both  public  and 
domestic  trials — preaching — was  now  used  by  him  with  un- 
remitting diligence  ;  and  in  the  autumn  of  1 749  we  find  him  in  a 
new  district,  and  among  a  people  as  different  from  those  of  the 
west  of  England  as  Yorkshire  moors  are  different  from  Devon- 
shire lanes  and  orchards.  It  was  the  splendid  autumn  season 
when  he  first  clambered  up  that  steep  road  '  winding  between 
wave-like  hills  that  rise  and  fall  on  every  side  of  the  horizon, 
with  a  long,  illimitable  look,  as  if  they  were  a  part  of  the  line 
of  the  great  serpent,  which,  the  Norse  legend  says,  girdles  the 
world  ; '  and  was  received  at  bleak  little  Haworth,  sacred  both  to 
piety  and  genius,  by  William  Grimshaw,  the  incumbent.  The 
old  parsonage  (not  the  one  in  which  the  Brontes  afterwards 
lived),  standing  half  a  mile  from  the  church,  and  commanding 
from  its  windows  a  wide  view  of  the  valley  of  the  Worth,  and 
from  its  door  the  interlacing  hills  towards  Keighley,  the 
sheltered  valley  at  their  feet,  and  the  swelling  moors,  traced 
with  winding  roads,  that  lie  bordering  on  the  moors  of  Ilkley, 
was  solid  and  weather-beaten,  like  the  sturdy  man  who  then 
inhabited  it.  We  do  not  know  whether  his  eye  often  lingered 
on  the  beauty  and  grandeur  that  lay  around  his  home  ;  perhaps 
at  the  most  it  would  be  a  hurried  glance  that  he  would  give, 
when  he  halted  for  a  moment  on  the  doorstone,  as  he  went 
forth  to  preach,  or  returned  from  the  same  duty ;  for  he  was  an 
untiring  apostle  of  the  truth,  and  it  would  be  little  time  that  he 
could  find  for  communion  with  nature.  His  work  was  to 
soften  and  change  the  rugged,  hardened  sinners  of  the  village, 
and  of  all  the  district  round,  as  far  as  his  iron  strength  could 
carry  him ;  and  for  that  he  must  only  exchange  the  saddle 
where  he  made  his  sermons  for  the  pulpit  where  he  preached 


THE   VICAR  OF  HA  WORTH  267 

them.  An  all-absorbing  thing  was  the  enjoying  and  teaching 
those  truths  which  had  turned  his  own  soul  from  sin  to  holiness, 
and  which  had  changed  a  clergyman,  a  mere  professional,  who 
had  entered  holy  orders  with  the  unholy  wish  to  get  the  best 
living  he  could,  into  a  loving  shepherd,  who  sought  the  lambs 
and  the  sheep  by  night  and  day,  in  summer  and  winter,  in  weari- 
ness and  painfulness,  nor  ever  thought  of  his  sacrifice,  if  so  be 
he  might  save  that  which  was  lost.  Thirty  times  a  week  would 
he  preach  in  cottage  or  church,  or  on  hillside  ;  it  was  an  idle 
week  when  he  preached  but  twelve  times.  Neither  was  he 
satisfied  simply  to  preach,  to  get  through  his  subject ;  he  would 
dwell  with  unwearied  patience  on  each  part  of  his  message, 
loving  the  tenderness  and  mercy  of  which  it  spoke,  and  anxious 
that  the  feeblest  mind  should  also  love  and  understand  it. 
'  Affectionately  desirous '  of  his  people,  he  would  have 
imparted  to  them,  not  the  gospel  of  God  only,  but  also  his 
own  soul,  because  they  were  dear  to  him.  Truer  and  kinder 
shepherd  never  tended  flock  than  this  overseer  of  the  flock 
among  the  hills.  Much  has  been  said  about  his  eccentricities, 
but  these  were  little  noticed  by  his  people,  who  lived  daily  in  the 
light  of  his  shining  purity,  and  received  in  their  every  sorrow 
and  in  their  every  joy  the  sympathy  of  his  faithful  heart. 

His  church  always  presented  a  remarkable  appearance  on 
the  Sunday.  The  shepherding  of  the  week  made  a  full  fold 
that  day.  Weavers  and  farmers,  shepherds  and  labourers,  came 
from  the  remotest  parts  of  his  wild  district  to  hear  his  words  of 
grace  and  truth,  and  listened  as  if  they  felt  the  power  of  another 
world  upon  their  spirits.  When  Whitefield  first  visited  them, 
which  was  in  September,  1749,  six  thousand  people  stood  in 
the  churchyard  to  hear  him,  and  above  a  thousand  communi- 
cants approached  the  table  with  feelings  of  awe  and  joy.  So 
great  a  number  could  have  been  collected  together  in  this 
thinly-populated    district    only    by   a   strong    desire    to   hear 


268  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

an  unequalled  preacher,  whose  fame  was  familiar  through  the 
lips  of  their  pastor,  and  by  a  deep  and  real  interest  in  the  great 
subjects  on  which  he  discoursed,  as  the  congregations  at  Cam- 
buslang  and  in  the  American  woods  were  called  together.  '  It 
was,'  says  Whitefield,  'a  great  day  of  the  Son  of  man.' 

Whitefield  paid  his  first  visit  to  Leeds  at  the  request  of 
one  of  Wesley's  preachers  and  of  all  Wesley's  people ;  he  was 
welcomed  by  all,  and  had  a  congregation  of  ten  thousand  to 
hear  him.  About  the  same  time  he  visited  Armley,  Pudsey, 
and  Birstall.1 

Proceeding  northwards,  he  met  Charles  Wesley  returning 
from  Newcastle,  where  Methodism  had  already  won  a  remark- 
able triumph,  and  where  he  had  been  confirming  the  believers. 
Charles  immediately  turned  his  horse's  head  round  towards 
Newcastle,  and  went  (a  pleasant  sight  to  see)  to  introduce  his 
brother  in  Christ  to  the  Methodist  pulpit  in  that  town.  He 
wrote  a  letter  giving  an  account  of  what  took  place  which 
reflects  the  highest  credit  upon  the  spirit  in  which  the  three 
friends  were  now  doing  their  work  : — 

'  I  snatch  a  few  moments  before  the  people  come  to  tell  you  what  you 
will  rejoice  to  know — that  the  Lord  is  reviving  His  work  as  at  the 
beginning  ;  that  multitudes  are  daily  added  to  His  Church;  so  that  G.  W. 
and  myjjrothpr  n,ntU_are  one — a  threefold  cord  which  shall  no  more  be 
broken.  The  week  before  last  I  waited  on  our  friend  George  to  our 
house  in  Newcastle,  and  gave  him  full  possession  of  our  pulpit  and 
people's  hearts  ;  as  full  as  was  in  my  power  to  give.     The  Lord  united  all 


1  Tradition  long  retained  a  story  about  the  preaching  at  Birstall.  Nancy 
Bowling,  a  pious  old  maid  of  Heckmondwike,  who  died  sixty  years  ago 
at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty,  used  to  tell  how  the  wind  blew  from  Birstall 
towards  Heckmondwike  when  Whitefield  preached,  and  that  his  voice  could 
be  heard  on  Staincliffe  Hill,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  where  he  stood,  crying, 
'  O  earth,  earth,  hear  the  Word  of  the  Lord  ! '  The  story  must  have  been 
lold  her ;  but  most  likely  she  heard  him  preach,  as  she  was  ten  years  old 
when  he  died, 


\ 


MRS.  GRACE  MURRAY  269 

our  hearts.  I  attended  his  successful  ministry  for  some  days.  He  was 
never  more  blessed  or  better  satisfied.  .  .  .  At  Leeds  we  met  my  brother, 
who  gave  honest  George  the  right  hand  of  fellowship,  and  attended  him 
everywhere  to  our  societies.  Some  at  London  will  be  alarmed  at  the 
news  ;  but  it  is  the  Lord's  doing,  as  they,  I  doubt  not,  will  by  and  by 
acknowledge.' 


'  Brother  Charles  '  and  'honest  George '  did  something  more 
at  Newcastle  than  preach  ;  they  got  Mrs.  Grace  Murray,  a 
widow,  to  whom  Wesley  was  engaged,  married  to  John 
Bennet,  to  the  great  anguish  of  Wesley's  heart.  Whitefield 
played  only  a  secondary  part  in  this  blamable  transaction,  and 
under  the  strain  it  caused  he  kept  the  two  brothers  together. 
Wesley  showed  astonishing  magnanimity  towards  all  con- 
cerned, but  especially  towards  Charles  and   Mrs.  Bennet. 

This  second  visit  to  Leeds,  to  which  Charles  refers,  was 
after  a  ride  with  Whitefield  through  part  of  Lancashire  and 
part  of  Cheshire.  It  made  the  Established  and  Dissenting 
clergy  very  angry,  and  their  churches  and  chapels  echoed  with 
the  thunder  of  their  displeasure. 

It  was  November  now,  and,  says  Whitefield,  '  indeed  it 
begins  to  be  cold  abroad.'  Winter  was  warning  him  home  to 
his  Tabernacle ;  so  he  only  called  at  Sheffield,  Nottingham, 
and  Ashby  on  his  way  southwards.  At  Sheffield,  then  a  town 
of  ten  thousand  inhabitants,  he  unwittingly  gave  the  Wesleys 
a  most  appropriate  return  for  their  kindness  at  Leeds  and 
Newcastle.  In  1743  Charles  had  been  stoned  there,  and  the 
society  house  pulled  down  by  a  mob,  while  the  constable 
looked  on  approvingly.  Three  years  later  Charles  found  the 
hardened  sinners  at  Sheffield  still  the  same  ;  and  felt  himself 
constrained  to  warn  them  from  the  awful  words  :  '  Except  the 
Lord  of  hosts  had  left  unto  us  a  very  small  remnant,  we 
should  have  been  as  Sodom,  and  we  should  have  been  like 
unto    Gomorrah  !  '      God    filled   his    mouth    with   judgments 


270  GEORGE  WH1TEF1ELD 

against  them,  which  he  trembled  to  utter,  and  they  to  hear; 
yet  he  had  no  deeper  satisfaction  than  that  of  having  delivered 
his  own  soul.  Other  labourers  toiled,  then  came  Whitefield, 
the  success  of  whose  preaching  is  thus  noticed  by  Charles 
Wesley,  eighteen  months  after  Whitefield's  visit : — 

'At  two  I  rejoiced  to  meet  some  of  my  dear  children  in  Sheffield. 
I  encouraged  them  by  that  most  glorious  promise — "Behold  He  cometh 
with  clouds,  and  every  eye  shall  see  Him."  The  door  has  continued 
open  ever  since  Mr.  Whitefield  preached  here,  and  quite  removed  the 
prejudices  of  our  first  opposers.  Some  of  them  were  convinced  by 
him,  some  converted  and  added  to  the  Church.  "He  that  escapes  the 
sword  of  Jehu  shall  Elisha  slay.'" 

He  was  no  mighty  man,  glorying  in  his  strength,  who  won 
these  conquests  over  fierceness,  rage,  and  hate,  but  one  who 
passed  his  days  in  humble  watchfulness  and  dependence  upon 
heavenly  aid.  When  others  were  wondering  at  his  unflagging 
devotion,  he  was  '  more  afraid  of  declining  in  the  latter  stages 
of  his  road  than  of  anything  else.'  There  was  not  a  grain  of  V 
self-satisfaction  in  him.  He  was  hungering  and  thirsting  after 
simplicity  and  godly  sincerity.  He  was  subjecting  all  personal 
interests  to  the  glory  and  kingdom  of  his  Lord.  '  If  souls 
were  profited  he  desired  no  more.'  Every  expense  was  con- 
tracted with  miserly  vigilance,  that  he  might  have  the  more  to 
give  to  the  poor,  and  for  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel.  And 
in  every  sacrifice  made,  in  every  reproach  endured,  there  was 
before  his  soul  the  image  of  his  humbled,  homeless,  suffering 
Redeemer,  cheering  and  reviving  and  defending  him.  He 
had  struggled  upwards  to  a  glorious  height  of  consecration 
and  love,  yet  was  he  ever  mindful  of  the  past,  when  self-will 
and  fear  of  contempt  marred  the  beauty  and  excellence  of  his 
piety,  and  anxious  for  the  day  of  his  final  emancipation  from 
sin.  '  Oh,  my  dear  sir,'  he  exclaims  to  a  friend,  '  this  pretty 
character  of  mine  I  did  not  at  first  care  to  part  with ;  'twas 


INTIMATE   WITH  CONTEMPT  271 

death  to  be  despised,  and  worse  than  death  to  think  of  being 
laughed  at  by  all.  But  when  I  began  to  consider  Him  who 
endured  such  contradiction  of  sinners  against  Himself,  I  then 
longed  to  drink  of  the  same  cup ;  and  blessed  be  God,  con- 
tempt and  I  are  pretty  intimate,  and  have  been  so  for  above 
twice  seven  years.'  Humility  was  now  one  of  the  most 
conspicuous  among  all  that  radiant  cluster  of  virtues  and 
graces  which  crowned  his  head  like  stars.  '  Oh,  that  I  may 
learn  from  all  I  see  to  desire  to  be  nothing ! '  he  cries  out, 
'  and  to  think  it  my  highest  privilege  to  be  an  assistant  to  all, 
but  the  head  of  none.  I  find  a  love  of  power  sometimes 
intoxicates  even  God's  own  dear  children,  and  makes  them  to 
mistake  passion  for  zeal,  and  an  overbearing  spirit  for  an 
authority  given  them  from  above.  For  my  own  part,  I  find  it 
much  easier  to  obey  than  govern,  and  that  it  is  much  safer  to 
be  trodden  under  foot  than  to  have  it  in  one's  power  to  serve 
others  so.  This  makes  me  fly  from  that  which  at  our  first 
setting  out  we  are  too  apt  to  court.  Thanks  be  to  the  Lord 
of  all  lords  for  taking  any  pains  with  ill  and  hell-deserving 
me  !     I  cannot  well  buy  humility  at  too  dear  a  rate.' 

He  went  to  '  golden  seasons '  in  London,  in  the  winter 
1749-50.  Large  congregations  were  gathered  together  in  the 
Tabernacle,  at  six  in  the  morning.  The  nobility  were 
preached  to,  and  poor  people  and  orphans  not  forgotten.  He 
tells  Lady  Huntingdon  that  he  '  hopes  to  write  to  the  poor 
baker  soon  ;'  and  to  Habersham  at  the  orphan-house  he  sends 
word  that  he  has  agreed  to  take  '  little  Joseph  and  his  sister,' 
also  that  he  hears  there  is  a  little  infant  beside  the  other  two, 
and  that  he  would  willingly  have  it  too,  if  it  could  be  kept  till 
it  was  about  three  years  old;  'for,'  says  he,  'I  hope  to  grow 
rich  in  heaven  by  taking  care  of  orphans  on  earth.'  Haber- 
sham is  further  instructed  to  let  Mrs.  V (probably  some 

widow)  and  the  other  poor  of  Savannah  reap  the  benefit  of  the 


l/ 


272  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

crop,  if  it  answers  expectation.  '  Pray  let  one  barrel  ol  rice 
be  reserved  for  them.' 

Something  now  induced  him  to  offer  to  preach  in  Wesley's 
chapel.  His  friendly  advance  was  kindly  met ;  and  he 
preached  four  or  five  times  to  large  congregations,  and 
administered  the  sacrament  twice.  Wesley  also  came  to  the 
Tabernacle,  and  preached  for  Whitefield,  and  administered 
the  sacrament  to  twelve  hundred  communicants. 

His  work  among  the  nobility,,  which  was  in  a  fair  measure 
satisfying  even  to  him,  with  his  spiritual  conceptions  of  the 
work  of  God,  was  now  the  subject  of  conversation  at  Court, 
as  well  as  in  private  circles.  The  following  anecdote,  which  he 
communicated  to  the  Countess,  will  show  how  his  friends 
were  observed.     He  says  : — 

'  His  Majesty  seems  to  have  been  acquainted  with  some  things  about 
us,  by  what  passed  in  his  discourse  with  Lady  Chesterfield.  The 
particulars  are  these  :  her  ladyship  had  a -suit  of  clothes-on,  with  a  brown 
ground  and  silver  flowers,  which  was  brought  from  abroad.  His  Majesty 
coming  round  to  her,  first  smiled,  and  then  laughed  right  out.  Her 
ladyship  could  not  imagine  what  was  the  matter.  At  length  his  Majesty 
said  :  "  I  know  who  chose  that  gown  for  you — Mr.  Whitefield  ;  and  I  hear 
that  you  have  attended  on  him  this  year  and  a  half."  Her  ladyship 
answered  :  "Yes,  I  have,  and  I  like  him  very  well  ;  "  but  after  she  came 
to  her  chair  was  grieved  she  had  not  said  more ;  so  that  I  find  her  ladyship 
is  not  ashamed.' 

Early  in  1750  London  was  several  times  shaken  with  earth- 
quakes ;  and  the  state  of  excitement  into  which  it  and  other 
causes  threw  the  people,  gave  Whitefield  a  grand  opportunity 
for  displaying  the  fulness  of  his  love  and  the  strength  of  his  faith 
in  God.  The  first  shocks  were  felt  on  the  8th  of  February, 
and  on  the  8th  of  March  there  came  another,  at  a  quarter 
past  five  in  the  morning.  There  was  no  more  harm  done 
than  the  rocking  of  the  houses  and  the  tumbling  down  of 
some  chimneys;  but  men's  hearts  failed  them  for  fear.     There 


EARTHQUAKES  IN  LONDON  273 

was  talking  about  judgment  and  the  last  day.  A  soldier, 
bolder  and  more  fanatical  than  the  rest  of  the  people,  an- 
nounced the  coming  overthrow  of  a  great  part  of  the  city  on 
a  certain  night  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock.  Multitudes 
fled  the  city  altogether,  while  others  crowded  the  fields  and 
open  places  for  safety  from  falling  houses.  The  Methodist 
chapels  had  enormous  congregations.  Whitefield  sought  his 
congregation  in  Hyde  Park  on  the  dreaded  night  of  the 
soldier's  prediction.  He  warned  and  entreated  them  all  to 
prepare  for  the  coming  of  the  Son  of  man,  an  event  much 
more  stupendous  and  important  than  that  which  they  now 
expected  every  moment  to  see.  Neither  moon  nor  star  shed 
any  light  upon  audience  or  preacher,  and  only  one  voice  was 
heard  in  the  still  darkness,  like  a  voice  crying  in  the  wilder- 
ness. It  spoke  of  mercy  and  judgment,  and  could  hardly 
have  spoken  in  vain. 

The  winter  in  London  had  been  very  trying  to  Whitefield's 
health,  if  refreshing  to  his  heart ;  throughout  the  whole  of  it 
his  body  was  a  daily  trial  to  him,  and  sometimes  he  could 
'  scarce  drag  the  crazy  load  along.'  It  was  with  delight  that 
he  saw  spring  return,  and  that  he  went  off  into  the  west 
for  a  time  of  ranging.  He  went  with  his  hands  so  full  of 
work,  and  moved  so  rapidly  from  place  to  place,  that  he  could 
hardly  find  time  to  eat.  He  found  it  exceedingly  pleasant, 
and  hoped  now,  in  his  Master's  strength,  '  to  begin  beginning 
to  spend  and  be  spent  for  Him  ! '  Twelve  times  in  six  days 
did  he  preach  at  Plymouth,  and  the  longer  he  preached,  the 
greater  became  the  congregations  and  the  mightier  his  word. 
Still  he  was  not  satisfied.  He  wanted  '  more  tongues,  more 
bodi  ;s,  more  souls  for  the  Lord  Jesus  ; '  had  he  been  gifted 
with  ten  thousand,  Christ  should  have  had  them  all. 

It  was  inevitable  that  his  flaming  zeal,  kindled  as  it  was  by 
the  love  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  burnin     only  for  His  glory, 

r9 


274  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

should  fire  all  the  district  through  which  he  passed.  Glouces- 
ter, Bristol,  Plymouth,  and  Cornwall  right  to  the  Land's  End, 
were  all  ablaze  with  religious  fervour.  He  seemed  to  travel  in 
the  strength  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  to  be  independent  of  that 
crazy  body  which  had  oppressed  him  in  London.  Friends 
were  jubilant  at  his  coming ;  and  when  he  was  speaking  at 
Bideford,  where  there  was  one  of  the  best  little  flocks  in 
all  England,  the  bold  vicar  of  St.  Gennis  almost  fell  under 
the  mighty  power  of  God  which  came  down  upon  the 
\     people. 

Such  exertions  as  he  put  forth  could  not  fail  to  do  him 
physical  mischief.  That  pain  which  he  felt  as  he  came  last 
from  Scotland  was  not  inactive ;  it  now  and  again  pierced 
him,  and  stayed  his  headlong  pace.  It  had  plagued  him  in 
London  when  he  was  preaching  four  times  a  day ;  and  when 
he  was  over  the  first  burst  of  effort  in  the  west,  and  thought 
himself  so  much  better  for  the  change,  it  returned  upon  him 
with  increased  power.  He  had  continued  vomitings  which 
.'almost  killed  him,'  he  says;  and  yet  the  pulpit  was  his  only 
cure,  so  that  his  friends  began  to  pity  him  less,  and  to  leave 
off  '  that  ungrateful  caution,  "  Spare  thyself  !  " ' 

He  does  not  appear  to  have  permitted  one  day's  rest  to  his 
body  when  he  returned  to  London  from  the  west.  Early  in 
May,  1750,  he  started  for  Ashby,  where  Lady  Huntingdon 
was  lying  ill,  whom  he  hoped  God's  people  would  keep  out  of 
heaven  as  long  as  possible  by  their  prayers.  He  had  some 
pleasant  interviews  with  Doddridge,  with  Stonehouse  (now  a 
clergyman,  and  not  afraid  to  attend  Whitefield's  preaching  in 
the  fields,  nor  to  take  the  evangelist's  arm  down  the  street), 
with  Hervey  and  Hartley.  At  Ashby  there  began  the  first  of 
a  series  of  little  incidents  in  this  town  which  well  illustrate 
what  kind  of  a  life  his  was.  '  The  kind  people  of  Ashby,'  he 
says,   'stirred  up   some  of  the  baser  sort  to  riot  before  her 


ADVENTURES  BY  THE   WAY  275 

ladyship's  door  while  the  gospel  was  preaching ;  and  on 
Wednesday  evening  some  people,  on  their  return  home, 
narrowly  escaped  being  murdered.  Her  ladyship  has  just 
received  a  message  from  the  justice,  in  order  to  bring  the 
offenders  before  him.'  After  passing  through  Nottingham, 
Mansfield,  and  Sutton,  at  which  places  his  message  was 
reverently  listened  to  by  vast  numbers,  another  rough  reception 
was  given  to  him  at  Rotherham.  The  crier  was  employed  to 
give  notice  of  a  bear-baiting.  At  seven  o'clock  on  a  Saturday 
morning  the  'bear'  had  his  congregation  round  him;  then 
the  drum  sounded,  and  several  watermen  came  with  great 
staves  to  the  baiting.  The  constable  was  struck  ;  two  of  the 
mobbers  were  apprehended,  but  afterwards  rescued.  One  of 
the  most  active  opponents  of  Whitefield  at  Rotherham,  but 
afterwards  one  of  his  best  friends,  was  one  Thorpe,  who  also 
thought  to  make  merry  with  his  public-house  friends  at  the 
evangelist's  expense.  He  and  three  others  engaged  to  com- 
pete, in  a  public-house,  for  a  wager,  at  mimicking  Whitefield. 
His  competitors  took  their  turn  first ;  then  he  jumped  on  the 
table,  saying,  '  I  shall  beat  you  all.'  According  to  the  terms 
of  the  contest,  he  opened  the  Bible  at  haphazard,  and  took  the 
first  text  that  his  eye  fell  upon,  which  was  this,  '  Except  ye 
repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.'  The  words  pierced  his 
conscience  at  once,  and  instead  of  mimicking,  he  began  to 
preach  in  right  earnest,  neither  thoughts  nor  language  failing 
him.  His  audience  hung  their  heads  in  silence  and  gloom  ; 
none  attempted  to  interrupt  him  as  he  went  on  to  make 
remarks  which  filled  his  own  mind  with  amazement  and 
terror.  His  sermon — which  he  always  affirmed  was  preached 
by  the  help  of  the  Spirit  of  God — ended,  he  descended  from 
the  table,  and  left  the  room  in  silence,  without  noticing  any 
one.  Afterwards  he  joined  Ingham's  society,  then  Wesley's, 
and  finally  becoming  an  Independent,  settled  as  the  pastor  of 


276  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

the  Independent  Church  at  Masbro.1  The  people  of  Bolton 
rivalled  those  of  Rotherham  in  rudeness  and  violence ;  a 
drunkard  stood  up  behind  Whiter! eld  to  preach ;  and  a  woman 
twice  attempted  to  stab  the  person  who  erected  the  preaching- 
stand  in  her  husband's  field.  At  Newby  Cote,  from  whence 
he  wrote  the  letter  detailing  the  treatment  he  had  received  at 
Bolton,  he  had  to  append  to  his  letter,  at  seven  on  the  morning 
after  writing  it,  a  postscript  which  ran  thus  :  '  This  last  night 
Satan  hath  showed  his  teeth.  Some  persons  got  into  the 
barn  and  stable,  and  have  cut  my  chaise  and  one  of  the 
horse's  tails.  What  would  men  do,  if  they  could  ? '  It  was 
reserved  for  'a  clergyman  at  Ulverstone,  who  looked  more 
like  a  butcher  than  a  minister,'  to  render  the  last  of  those 
insults  which  Whitefield  bore  during  this  journey.  He  came 
with  two  others,  and  charged  a  constable  to  take  Whitefield 
into  custody  ;  '  but,'  adds  Whitefield,  '  I  never  saw  a  poor 
creature  sent  off  in  such  disgrace.'  Thus  the  poor  pilgrim 
went  on  from  town  to  town,  from  county  to  county. 

The  journey  had  also  its  bright  side.  Sheffield  hardened 
sinners  were  visibly  altered  in  their  looks  since  the  last  visit, 
and  received  the  word  with  such  gladness  that  many  went 
away  because  they  could  not  come  near  enough  to  hear.  The 
moors  around  Haworth  were  thronged  on  Whit  Sunday  with 
thousands  of  people,  and  the  church  was  thrice  almost  filled 
with  communicants.  Increasing  in  power  as  he  went,  he 
reached  Edinburgh  at  the  end  of  two  months,  during  which 

'  Whitefield's  house  was  often  the  village  inn,  and  there  he  was  exposed 
to  annoyance  both  from  drunkards  and  gamblers.  One  night  the  room  in 
which  he  and  a  friend  slept  was  next  to  that  in  which  a  set  of  gamblers 
were  carousing ;  and  their  foul  language  so  troubled  him  that  he  felt  he 
must  go  and  reprove  them.  In  vain  did  his  friend  try  to  dissuade  him. 
He  went  and  spoke,  but  apparently  without  any  effect.  When  he  returned 
and  lay  down  again,  his  friend  said,  'What  did  you  gain  by  it?'  'A  soft 
pillow,'  he  answered,  and  soon  fell  asleep. 


VISITING   THE  DYING  277 

time  he  had  preached  more  than  ninety  times,  and  to  perhaps 
as  many  as  one  hundred  and  forty  thousand  people. 

His  coming  was  hailed  with  joy  in  Scotland  ;  larger  con- 
gregations than  ever  waited  on  his  word ;  and  results,  not  so 
striking,  but  quite  as  useful,  followed  his  efforts  as  formerly. 
His  general  plan  was  to  preach  twice  every  day,  the  first  time 
early  in  the  morning,  and  the  second  in  the  evening  at  six ; 
but  one  day  he  preached  thrice,  and  another  day  four  times. 
This  exertion  proved  too  much.  Ralph  Erskine  and  he  met, 
and  shook  hands.  The  pamphleteers  were  quiet ;  and  many 
of  his  enemies  were  glad  to  be  at  peace  with  him.  '  The 
parting  was  rather  more  affectionate  than  ever,'  he  says,  'and 
I  shall  have  reason  to  bless  God  for  ever  for  this  last  visit  to 
Scotland.' 

His  active  life  did  not  altogether  remove  him  from  the  quiet 
sphere  of  an  ordinary  pastor;  and  sometimes  we  find  .him 
comforting  the  dying,  and  preparing  them  for  their  change. 
Such  work  awaited  him  on  his  return  to  England.  The 
Honourable  Miss  Hotham,  daughter  of  Lady  Hotham,  re- 
ceived her  last  religious  teaching  from  him,  and  passed  into 
the  joy  of  her  Lord.  It  is  striking  to  see  Whitefield  kneeling 
at  her  bedside,  and  praying  'as  low  as  he  could,'  and  then 
giving  her  the  communion. 

The  end  of  1750  and  the  beginning  of  1 751  do  not  appear 
to  have  been  so  stirring  as  other  times  in  Whitefield's  life ;  but 
the  fact  is  that  his  public  labours,  numerous  and  exhausting  as 
ever,  when  he  was  well  enough  to  work  at  all,  were  consider- 
ably overshadowed  by  personal  affliction  and  the  affliction  of 
his  wife  and  friends.  At  first,  and  for  some  short  time  after 
his  return  from  Scotland,  all  was  most  pleasant  and  most  quiet. 
He  looks  at  home  in  his  house  adjoining  the  Tabernacle.  There 
he  entertains  his  dearly  beloved  friend  Hervey ;  Wesley,  too, 
comes  up  one  morning  to  breakfast  with  him,  and  then    to 


278  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

pray  with  him.  '  His  heart,'  as  Wesley  says,  '  was  susceptible 
of  the  most  generous  and  the  most  tender  friendship.  I  have 
frequently  thought  that  this  of  all  others  was  the  distinguish- 
ing part  of  his  character.  How  few  have  we  known  of  so  kind 
a  temper,  of  such  large  and  flowing  affections  ! '  Charles 
Wesley,  too,  had  the  same  judgment  on  this  point,  and  said 
of  him — 

'  For  friendship  formed  by  nature  and  by  grace, 
His  heart  made  up  of  truth  and  tenderness, 
He  lived,  himself  on  others  to  bestow.' 

It  is  in  the  spirit  of  this  beautiful  expression  of  his,  '  It  is  my 
comfort  that  those  who  are  friends  to  Jesus  shall  live  eternally 
together  hereafter,'  that  he  comes  in  from  the  Tabernacle  to 
enjoy  the  conversation  of  his  friend ;  and  by  and  by  goes 
down  to  Ashby  to  see  the  Countess  and  four  clergymen  who 
are  enjoying  her  hospitality.  He  says  that  she  looks  like  '  a 
good  archbishop  with  his  chaplains  around  him.'  'They  have 
'  the  sacrament  every  morning,  heavenly  conversation  all  day, 
and  preaching  at  night.'  He  calls  this  living  at  Court  indeed. 
Nor  is  the  heavenly  conversation  without  wit  and  pleasantry, 
for  Whitefield  was  one  of  the  cheerfullest  of  men.  'Strong 
good  sense,  a  generous  expansion  of  heart,  the  most  artless 
but  captivating  affability,  the  brightest  cheerfulness,  and  the 
promptest  wit,'  Toplady  says,  '  made  him  one  of  the  best 
companions  in  the  world.' 

But  it  is  only  for  a  few  days  that  we  sec  him  spending  a  life 
so  free  from  the  strain  of  preaching  to  thousands.  He  is 
hardly  withdrawn  from  the  fields,  yet  is  longing  to  die  preach- 
ing in  them.  His  favourite  caution  to  ministers — '  Beware  of 
nestling ' — is  never  out  of  mind  ;  and  although  he  has  won 
converts  in  this  short  stay  at  Ashby,  he  is  soon  off  to 
London,  and  plunged  into  all  the  excitement  of  his  countless 
w  labours. 


ILLNESS  OF  LADY  HUNTINGDON  279 

Two  months'  work  brought  on  a  violent  and  dangerous 
fever,  which  confined  him  to  his  room  for  two  weeks.  He 
soon  was  well  enough  to  engage  again  in  his  work;  but  he  had 
thought  to  cast  anchor  in  the  haven  of  eternal  rest.  Half 
regretfully  he  received  the  summons  '  to  put  out  to  sea  again  ; ' 
but  his  thought  for  himself  was  quickly  forgotten  in  the  old 
passion  of  his  soul — love  of  others — and  he  wished  that  he 
might  live  to  direct  them  to  the  haven  he  had  almost  sighted. 

His  wife,  too,  was  in  very  delicate  health,  near  her  third 
confinement,  and  after  that  event  she  still  continued  for  some 
time  in  a  precarious  state.  Not  a  word  fell  from  his  pen 
about  his  third  child,  which,  like  the  second,  was  probably 
still-born. 

Trouble  next  fell  upon  Lady  Huntingdon,  and  what  affected 
her  affected  him.  She  was,  indeed,  unwell  at  the  same 
time  as  Whitefield,  but  in  January,  1751,  she  became  much 
worse,  and  he  was  sent  for  to  see  her  at  once.  When  he 
arrived  at  Ash  by,  he  found  her  somewhat  better,  but  her  sister- 
in-law,  Lady  Frances  Hastings,  lying  dead  in  the  house.  He 
remarks  concerning  her  :  '  She  was  a  retired  Christian,  lived 
silently,  and  died  suddenly  without  a  groan.  May  my  exit  be 
like  hers  !  Whether  right  or  not,  I  cannot  help  wishing  that  I 
may  go  off  in  the  same  manner.  To  me  it  is  worse  than  death 
to  live  to  be  nursed,  and  see  friends  weeping  about  one. 
Sudden  death  is  sudden  glory.' 

Whitefield's  preaching  this  winter  was  as  remarkable  as  on 
any  previous  winter  for  its  efficacy  in  comforting  mourners,  in 
cheering  the  faithful,  and  in  converting  the  impenitent. 
When  he  finished  and  started  for  Bristol,  in  March,  he  wrote 
a  characteristic  letter  to  his  friend  Hervey,  urging  him  to  come 
to  Lady  Huntingdon  at  Bristol ;  '  for,'  he  says,  '  she  will  have 
nobody  to  give  her  the  sacrament  unless  you  come  ! '  White- 
held  proceeds  :  '  I  ventured  the  other  day  to  put  out  a  guinea 


280  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

to  interest  for  you.  It  was  to  relieve  an  excellent  Christian, 
who,  by  living  very  hard  and  working  near  twenty  hours  out  of 
four-and-twenty,  had  brought  himself  very  low.  He  has  a  wife 
and  four  children,  and  was  above  two  guineas  in  debt.  I  gave 
one  for  myself  and  one  for  you.  We  shall  have  good  interest 
for  our  money  in  another  world.' 

This  year  his  mind  was  much  relieved  about  Georgia, 
because  the  introduction  of  slaves  was  at  length  permitted  by 
the  Government.  The  pertinacity  of  those  who  wanted  to 
make  money  out  of  their  fellow-men  out-wearied  the  better 
feelings  and  holier  principles  of  those  who  saw  in  the  trade  a 
violation  of  human  rights,  a  political  and  social  curse ;  and  free 
scope  was  given  for  the  capture  of  Negroes  in  Africa  and  for 
their  introduction  into  America.  Whitefield's  remarks  upon 
his  new  acquisition  are  too  strange,  as  coming  from  one  who 
had  just  helped  the  poor  indebted  Christian,  to  be  omitted. 
They  cause  a  sigh  of  regret  that  he  never  appears  to  have  met 
his  contemporary,  that  beautiful  character,  John  Woolman,  the 
American  Quaker,  who  certainly  would  have  talked  and  prayed 
him  into  a  different  state  of  mind. 


'  Thanks  be  to  God,'  he  says,  'that  the  time  for  favouring  that  colony 
seems  to  be  come.  I  think  now  is  the  season  for  us  to  exert  our  utmost 
for  the  good  of  the  poor  Ethiopians.  We  are  told  that  even  they  are  soon 
to  stretch  out  their  hands  to  God.  And  who  knows  but  their  being  settled 
in  Georgia  may  be  overruled  for  this  great  end  ?  As  for  the  lawfulness  of 
keeping  slaves  I  have  no  doubt,  since  I  hear  of  some  that  were  bought  with 
Abraham's  money,  and  some  that  were  born  in  his  house.  And  I  cannot 
help  thinking  that  some  of  those  servants  mentioned  by  the  apostles  in  their 
epistles  were  or  had  been  slaves.  It  is  plain  that  the  Gibeonites  were  \  J 
doomed  to  perpetual  slavery,  and  though  liberty  is  a  sweet  thing  to  such  as 
are  born  free,  yet  to  those  who  never  knew  the  sweets  of  it,  slavery  perhaps 
may  not  be  so  irksome.  However  this  be,  it  is  plain  to  a  demonstration 
that  hot  countries  cannot  be  cultivated  without  Negroes.  What  a  flourish- 
ing country  might  Georgia  have  been,  had  the  use  of  them  been  permitted 
years  ago  !     How  many  white  people  have  been    destroyed   for  want  of 


SLA  VER  V  IN  GEORGIA  28 1 

them,  and  how  many  thousands  of  pounds  spent  to  no  purpose  at  all  ! 
Had  Mr.  Henry  ' — Matthew  Henry  ? — '  been  in  America,  I  believe  he 
would  have  seen  the  lawfulness  and  necessity  of  having  Negroes  there. 
And  though  it  is  true  that  they  are  brought  in  a  wrong  way  from  their  own 
country,  and  it  is  a  trade  not  to  be  approved  of,  yet  as  it  will  be  carried  on 
whether  we  will  or  not,  I  should  think  myself  highly  favoured  if  I  could 
purchase  a  good  number  of  them,  in  order  to  make  their  lives  comfortable, 
and  lay  a  foundation  for  breeding  up  their  posterity  in  the  nurture  and 
admonition  of  the  Lord.  You  know,  dear  sir,  that  I  had  no  hand  in 
bringing  them  into  Georgia  ;  though  my  judgment  was  for  it,  and  so  much 
money  was  yearly  spent  to  no  purpose,  and  I  was  strongly  importuned 
thereto,  yet  I  would  not  have  a  Negro  upon  my  plantation  till  the  use  of 
them  was  publicly  allowed  in  the  colony.'  (It  will  be  remembered  that  he 
had  a  hand  in  urging  on  the  alteration  of  the  law. )  '  Now  this  is  done, 
dear  sir,  let  us  reason  no  more  about  it,  but  diligently  improve  the  present 
opportunity  for  their  instruction.  The  Trustees  favour  it,  and  we  may 
never  have  a  like  prospect.  It  rejoiced  my  soul  to  hear  that  one  of  my 
poor  Negroes  in  Carolina  was  made  a  brother  in  Christ.  How  know  we 
but  we  may  have  many  such  instances  in  Georgia  ere  it  be  long?  In  the 
fall,  God  willing,  I  intend  to  see  what  can  be  done  towards  laying  a 
foundation.' 

In  a  copy  of  the  earliest  orphan-house  accounts  may  be 
found,  on  the  same  page  which  records  the  number  of 
pounds  paid  for  so  many  horses,  cows,  calves,  and  pigs,  an 
entry  'For  two  servants  bought  of  George  Cuthbert,  j£\2.'  \^ 
And  this  was  done  sincerely  in  the  name  of  philanthropy  and 
religion,  nor  does  one  protest  from  any  quarter  appear  to  have 
been  raised  against  it.  To  Whitefield  himself  it  never  seemed 
to  occur  that  the  brotherly  love  he  showed  to  Negroes  per- 
sonally was  a  spirit  utterly  opposed  to  the  spirit  of  slavery, 
and  that  soon  or  later  one  must  destroy  the  other.  Love  and 
slavery  never  can  co-exist  in  peace.  And  little  did  he  dream 
what  a  ghastly  failure  this  attempt  to  unite  Christianity  and 
slavery  would  prove  to  be.  From  this  dark  deed  flowed,  for 
more  than  a  century,  a  river  of  wrong,  misery,  and  shame.  In 
the  original  Declaration  of  Independence  of  the  United  States 
there   was  a   clause  reprobating    the   enslavement   of  African 


282  GEORGE   WH1TEFIELD 

Negroes,  but  at  the  instigation  of  South  Carolina  and  Georgia, 
which  had  never  attempted  to  restrain  the  importation  of 
slaves,  and  still  wished  to  continue  it,  the  clause  was  struck 
out.  Georgia  became  one  of  the  worst  of  the  slave  States.  It 
offered,  in  1831,  a  reward  of  five  thousand  dollars  for  William 
Lloyd  Garrison,  the  leader  of  American  Negro  Emancipation, 
which  was  a  bribe  to  any  ruffian  to  seize  him  and  convey  him 
South,  whence  it  is  certain  he  never  would  have  come  out  alive. 
The  reward  was  on  his  head  for  thirty-four  years,  when  Lincoln's 
Proclamation  of  Emancipation  annulled  it.  But  Providence  had 
a  strange  revenge  for  Whitefield's  fault,  for  in  the  house  next 
to  that  in  which  he  died  at  Newbury  Port,  Garrison  was  born, 
and  over  the  ramparts  of  Fort  Sumter,  Charleston,  S.C.,  from 
which  the  first  shot  was  fired  by  the  South  on  the  Federal  flag, 
Garrison  and  a  band  of  Abolitionists,  invited  by  the  Govern 
ment  to  be  present,  had  the  joy  of  seeing  that  flag  raised  again 
as  the  symbol  of  liberty  for  all,  black  and  white  alike.  In  New 
England,  which  had  shared  so  largely  in  the  revival,  was 
generated  the  force  that  destroyed  slavery.  The  good  over- 
came the  evil.  Nevertheless,  evangelist i  and  ministers  should 
be  warned  by  this  painful  part  of  Whitefield's  life  not  to  give 
their  support,  either  directly  or  indirectly,  to  anything,  under 
any  pretext  whatsoever,  that  is  a  violation  of  justice,  lest 
thereby  they  do  more  harm  than  by  all  their  labours  they  do 
good.  Whitefield  might  not  have  been  able  to  prevent  the 
introduction  of  slavery  into  Georgia,  but  he  would  have  been 
honoured  for  failing  in  an  attempt  to  stop  it,  and  he  need  not 
have  availed  himself  of  the  right  to  hold  slaves. 

On  March  30,  1 75 1,  Whitefield  writes  from  Plymouth:  'I 
suppose  the  death  of  our  Prince  has  affected  you.  It  has 
given  me  a  shock.'  The  Prince  of  Wales  counted  many  of 
Lady  Huntingdon's  friends  among  his  political  supporters, 
and  she  herself,    before   her   conversion,   often  attended   his 


IN  IRELAND  283 

Court.  Her  absence  from  Court  after  her  conversion  was  not 
unnoticed  by  the  Prince  ;  and  inquiring  one  day  of  Lady 
Charlotte  Edwin  where  she  was,  he  received  the  laconic, 
mocking  answer,  '  I  suppose  praying  with  her  beggars.'  The 
Prince  shook  his  head,  and  turning  to  her  said,  '  Lady 
Charlotte,  when  I  am  dying,  I  think  I  shall  be  happy  to 
seize  the  skirt  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  mantle,  to  lift  me  up 
with  her  to  heaven.' 

From  January,  1751,  to  December,  1752,  there  occurred 
nothing  that  deserves  detailed  record  in  a  life  like  this,  where 
effort  was  generally  at  the  full  stretch,  and  where  sufferings, 
both  mental  and  bodily,  as  well  as  joys,  abounded.  We 
are  prepared  to  hear  of  journeys  and  voyages  made  with  the 
promptness  of  a  general  at  the  head  of  an  attacking  army  ;  and 
of  weariness  and  sickness  paid  as  the  price  for  the  risks  run. 
A  few  pages  of  Whitefield's  letters  carry  us  into  Wales,  where, 
since  nothing  is  said  about  it,  we  must  imagine  what  work  he 
did  ;  and  into  Ireland,  where  he  was  received  into  the  house 
of  Mr.  Lunell,  a  Dublin  banker,  and  where  the  people 
welcomed  him,  everything,  apparently,  having  prepared  his 
way.  Dublin  was  soon  aroused  by  his  earnest  words,  and 
'Moorfield's  auditories'  rewarded  him  for  his  toil,  as  they  stood 
with  solemn  countenances,Jike  men  who  were  hearing  as  for 
eternity.  Athlone  and  Limerick,  where,  as  a  hunger-bitten, 
weary  traveller,  he  had  preached  fourteen  years  before,  next 
heard  his  voice.  Then  Waterford  and  Cork,  where  he  stood 
unhurt  in  the  midst  of  a  populace  which  had  shamefully 
treated  the  Methodists  whom  the  Wesleys  and  their  helpers 
had  gathered  into  a  society.  Hundreds  in  that  city  prayed 
him  to  continue  among  them  ;  and  many  Papists  promised  td 
leave  their  priests  if  he  would  consent  to  the  request ;  but 
their  pleading  and  promising  were  alike  ineffectual.  He  was 
soon   in  Dublin  again,  and  as   quickly  away  to  Belfast   and 


284  GEORGE   WN/TE FIELD 

other  places  in  the  north.  What  the  efforts  of  the  people 
of  Cork,  and  the  tears  of  the  people  of  Dublin  could  not 
procure — a  few  days  longer  stay — the  importunity  of  the 
people  of  Belfast  won  from  him.  The  numbers  that  attended 
were  so  large,  and  the  opportunities  for  good  were  so  promising, 
that  he  grieved  he  had  not  come  among  them  sooner.  And 
all  the  while  he  had  been  performing  these  journeys  and 
labours  in  the  heat  of  summer,  and  under  physical  weakness 
which  caused  violent  vomiting,  attended  with  great  loss  of 
blood  after  preaching  !  Yet  in  five  days  he  was  at  Glasgow, 
in  the  house  of  his  old  friend,  Mr.  Niven,  a  merchant,  who 
lived  above  the  cross.  The  enthusiasm  of  Cambuslang  days 
still  burned  in  the  hearts  of  the  peasantry  and  the  weavers  in 
the  country,  and  by  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  many  of 
them  were  on  their  way  to  the  city,  to  hear  him  on  the  day  of 
his  farewell  preaching.  In  Edinburgh,  whither  he  went  next, 
the  selecter  society  living  in  the  capital  evinced,  along  with 
the  poor  and  the  degraded,  a  strong  desire  to  receive  his 
message.  More  work  brought  on  more  haemorrhage  and  more 
prostration,  till  his  body  was  almost  worn  out.  Riding  recruited 
him ;  and  he  was  no  sooner  in  London,  than  he  took  ship  for 
his  fourth  voyage  to  America,  his  seventh  across  the  Atlantic. 
vDr.  Doddridge  thought  his  constitution  was  quite  worn  out 
with  labour.  After  spending  the  winter  in  America,  he 
embarked  for  his  eighth  voyage  in  the  spring,  and  was  in 
England  preaching  and  journeying  as  usual  the  whole  of 
the  summer.  His  special  object  in  returning  so  soon 
was  '  to  put  the  orphanage  upon  a  proper  footing.'  He 
retired  to  London  for  the  winter  of  1752  ;  but  at  the  end  of 
what  exertion  and  triumph  did  that  laborious  repose  come ! 
For  about  twenty-eight  days  he  preached  in  Scotland  to  not 
less  than  ten  thousand  a  day.  '  His  progress  through  the  north 
of   England   towards    London   was  a  sublime   march.      From 


MISSING  FACES  285 

Sheffield  he  wrote  that  since  his  leaving  Newcastle  he  had 
sometimes  scarce  known  whether  he  was  in  heaven  or  on 
earth.  As  he  swept  along  from  town  to  town,  thousands  and 
thousands  flocked  twice  and  thrice  a  day  to  hear  the  word  of 
life.  '  A  gale  of  Divine  influence  everywhere  attended  it.'  He 
continued  his  work  till  he  reached  Northampton,  where  he 
took  coach  for  London.  No  wonder  that,  on  his  arrival  in  the 
city,  it  seemed  as  if  the  broken  tabernacle  of  the  body  must 
release  the  ardent  spirit  that  quickened  it.  Moreover,  the 
inner  life  was  as  intense  as  the  outward  was  active  and  busy. 
'Oh,  my  dear  friend,'  he  exclaims  to  a  correspondent,  'what 
manner  of  love  is  this,  that  we  should  be  called  the  sons  of 
God  !  Excuse  me.  I  must  pause  awhile,  my  eyes  gush  out 
with  water ;  at  present  they  are  almost  fountains  of  tears.  But 
thanks  be  to  God  they  are  tears  of  love  ! ' 

Looking  round  upon  the  circle  of  Whitefield's  friends  at 
Christmas,  1752,  we  miss  some  kind,  familiar  faces.  His 
mother's  face  is  not  there ;  she  had  died  a  year  before,  while 
he  was  paying  his  last  visit  to  America.  Doddridge's  face  is 
not  there  ;  he  died  at  Lisbon,  and  the  news  of  his  decease 
followed  Whitefield  to  America.  Like  the  soldier  on  the 
battlefield  who  can  but  drop  a  word  of  pity  for  a  fallen  com- 
rade, and  lift  up  a  prayer  for  himself,  Whitefield  could  only  say, 
1  Dr.  Doddridge,  I  find,  is  gone ;  Lord  Jesus,  prepare  me  to 
follow  after  ! '  The  face  of  good  Bishop  Benson  is  not  there ; 
he  died  on  August  30,  1752.  His  last  days  verified  the  remark 
of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon  :  '  My  lord,  mark  my  words  ; 
when  you  are  on  your  dying  bed,  Whitefield's  will  be  one  of  the 
few  ordinations  you  will  reflect  upon  with  complacence  '  On 
his  dying  bed  he  sent  Whitefield  a  present  of  ten  guineas  for 
his  orphan-house  as  a  token  of  his  regard,  and  begged  to  be 
remembered  in  his  prayers.  The  face  of  Whitefield's  only 
sister  is  not  there.     Her  house  in  Bristol  had  been  his  home, 


286  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

and  also  his  early  Sunday  morning  preaching-room,  while  in 
that  city ;  and  when  she  died  he  believed  that  she  had  entered 
into  'the  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God.'  The 
face  of  Ralph  Erskine  is  not  there.  His  death  occurred  on 
November  6,  1752;  and  when  the  intelligence  was  brought  to 
Ebenezer,  he  said  with  great  emotion,  'And  is  Ralph  gone? 
He  has  twice  got  the  start  of  me ;  he  was  first  in  Christ,  and 
now  he  is  first  in  glory.'  But  the  start  was  not  a  long  one  ; 
for  Ebenezer  Erskine  was  now  an  old  man,  and  worn  with 
heavy  labours.  On  June  2,  1754,  he  followed  his  brother 
quietly  and  gently ;  as  one  sleeping  and  resting  himself  after 
toil,  he  went  to  his  reward. 


CHAPTER   XI 
1753-i-770 

CHAPEL-BUILDING — ATTACKS     BY     ENEMIES — INFIRMITIES — HIS 
DEATH THE    RESULTS    OF    HIS    WORK 

NO  small  portion  of  the  year  1753  was  spent  by  Whitefield 
in  what  he  called  cross-ploughing  the  land  ;  and  what 
that  work  was  is  well  enough  known  without  our  following  him 
from  field  to  field.  But  while  he  thought  that  he  was  the 
happiest  man  who,  being  fond  neither  of  money,  numbers,  nor 
power,  went  on  day  by  day  without  any  other  scheme  than  '  a 
general  intention  to  promote  the  common  salvation  amongst 
people  of  all  denominations,'  his  attention  was  forcibly  called 
to  the  work  of  providing  a  permanent  place  of  worship  for  his 
followers  in  London.  The  churches  were  as  inaccessible  to 
Methodists  as  ever  ;  but  had  they  been  open  probably  few 
would  have  cared  to  enter  them,  for  the  freedom  of  the 
Tabernacle  was  in  their  estimation  preferable  to  the  un- 
alterable forms  of  the  Church.  The  Tabernacle  was  still  the 
wooden  building  that  was  hastily  erected  at  the  time  of  the 
division  between  the  Calvinists  and  Arminians.  The  idea  of 
a  permanent  building  seems  to  have  been  first  suggested  by 
the  Countess  of  Huntingdon  ;    but  Whitefield   was    slow  to 

move.     In  the  winter  of  1752,  she  and  Lady  Frances  Shirley 

287 


288  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

again  urged  the  work  upon  him,  and  this  time  he  was  brought 
to  their  side,  and  began  to  collect  money.  His  people  re- 
sponded with  their  usual  liberality,  and  contributed  a  hundred 
and  seventy-six  pounds  on  one  Sunday.  With  eleven  hundred 
pounds  in  hand,  he,  on  March  i,  1753,  laid  the  first  brick  of 
the  new  Tabernacle,  which  was  to  be  eighty  feet  square,  and 
built  round  the  old  place.  The  ceremony  was  performed  with 
great  solemnity,  and  Whitefield  preached  a  sermon  from  the 
text,  '  In  all  places  where  I  record  My  name,  I  will  come  unto 
thee  and  bless  thee.'  Three  months  later  the  Tabernacle 
was  ready  to  receive  its  congregation ;  and  he  opened  it  by 
preaching  in  it  morning  and  evening,  to  four  thousand  people 
or  more. 

In  the  spring  of  this  year  Whitefield  came  into  serious 
collision  with  the  Moravians.  The  reports  of  their  proceedings 
and  of  their  financial  position  which  he  published  in  '  An  Ex- 
postulatory  Letter'  to  Count  Zinzendorf,  were  brought  to  his 
ears  by  one  whom  Peter  Bohler  stigmatises  as  an  apostate ; 
but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  Whitefield  had  his  information 
from  more  sources  than  one  ;  and  as  Bohler  was  assailed  in 
the  letter,  his  phrase  must  be  somewhat  discounted.  A  man 
might  be  an  apostate  from  Moravianism,  and  yet  a  true  witness. 
Whitefield  opened  his  letter  with  a  protestation  that  a  real 
regard  for  his  king  and  country,  and  a  disinterested  love  for 
his  Saviour  and  his  Saviour's  Church,  would  not  let  him  keep 
silence  longer  with  respect  to  the  shocking  things  of  which  he 
had  heard,  and  the  offences  which  had  swelled  to  such  an 
enormous  bulk.  According  to  the  statements  which  he  had 
received,  there  had  been  much  foolishness  and  some  wicked- 
ness practised  by  the  Brethren,  and  they  were  seriously  in  debt. 
But  these  are  things  that  need  not  be  further  named  here. 
Whitefield  evidently  acted  with  candour  and  kindness,  and  his 
remonstrances  did  the  Brethren  good. 


ILLNESS  OF  WESLEY  289 

His  open-air  preaching  was  concluded  this  year  in  a  way  too 
beautiful  to  be  left  without  notice.  He  had  opened  in  Bristol 
another  chapel,  called  by  the  same  name  as  that  in  London,1 
and  then  started  for  Somersetshire.  He  writes,  on  December  1st, 
that  on  the  Tuesday  before,  he  had  preached  at  seven  in  the 
evening  to  a  great  multitude  in  the  open  air ;  that  all  was 
hushed  and  exceeding  solemn ;  that  the  stars  shone  with  great 
brightness ;  that  then,  if  ever,  he  had  by  faith  seen  Him  who 
calls  them  all  by  their  names  ;  and  that  his  soul  was  filled  with 
holy  ambition,  and  he  longed  to  be  one  of  those  who  shall 
shine  as  the  stars  for  ever  and  ever.  His  hands  and  body  had 
been  pierced  with  cold;  'but  what,'  he  asks,  'are  outward 
things  when  the  soul  within  is  warmed  with  the  love  of  God  ? ' 

Much  and  sincerely  as  he  desired  his  crown  and  joy,  it 
seemed  at  this  time  as  if  another  were  to  precede  him.  His 
friend  Wesley  was  ill  of  what  the  physicians  thought  was 
galloping  consumption.  Whitefield  pitied  the  Church  and 
himself,  but  not  Wesley.  He  almost  grieved  to  think  that 
he  must  stay  behind  in  'this  cold  climate,'  while  Wesley  took 
'  his  flight  to  a  radiant  throne  prepared  for  him  from  the 
foundations  of  the  world.'  Then,  again,  he  thought  how 
'  poor  Mr.  Charles '  was  to  be  pitied,  upon  whom  double 
work  would  come.  The  time  was  full  of  sorrow,  and  it 
gave  Whitefield  and  the  Countess  an  excellent  opportunity 

1  Lord  Chesterfield  contributed  twenty  pounds  towards  the  erection  of 
Bristol  Tabernacle  ;  but  begged  that  his  name  might  not  appear  in  any 
way.  Sainte  Beuve  says  that  he  feared  ridicule  ;  and  very  likely  that 
feeling  made  him  wish  his  name  to  be  withheld.  He  seems  also  to  have 
been  afraid  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  importunities,  and  a  little  impatience 
with  her  is  perceptible.  '  Really,'  he  said,  '  there  is  no  resisting  youi 
ladyship's  importunities.  It  would  ill  become  me  to  censure  your  enthusi- 
astic admiration  of  Mr.  Whitefield.  His  eloquence  is  unrivalled,  his  zeal 
inexhaustible  ;  and  not  to  admire  both  would  argue  a  total  absence  of  taste, 
and  an  insensibility  not  to  be  coveted  by  anybody.' 

20 


2QO  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

to  serve  their  friends.  The  Countess  and  another  lady,  just 
arrived  in  Bath  from  London,  went  from  Bath  to  Bristol,  to 
inform  Charles  of  his  brother's  dangerous  state.  He  imme- 
diately started  for  London,  and  found  John  at  Lewisham  ;  he 
fell  on  his  neck  and  wept.  Prayer  was  now  offered  in  all  the 
Methodist  societies  for  the  recovery  of  their  great  leader ;  and 
Charles  records  that  a  change  for  the  better  came  when  the 
people  were  praying  for  him  at  the  Foundry.  Hope,  however, 
had  been  relinquished  by  all ;  and  Wesley  had  written  his 
epitaph,  which  was  a  longer  composition  than  Whitefield  had 
penned  for  his  own  tombstone,  but  similar  in  spirit.  White- 
field  wrote  from  Bristol  to  both  the  brothers,  but  enclosed 
John's  letter  in  Charles's.     To  John  he  wrote  : — 

'  If  seeing  you  so  weak,  when  leaving  London,  distressed  me,  the  news 
and  prospect  of  your  approaching  dissolution  hath  quite  weighed  me  down. 
I  pity  the  Church,  and  myself,  but  not  you.  A  radiant  throne  awaits  you, 
and  ere  long  you  will  enter  into  your  Master's  joy.  Yonder  He  stands 
with  a  massy  crown,  ready  to  put  it  on  your  head  amid  an  admiring  throng 
of  saints  and  angels.  But  I,  poor  I,  that  have  been  waiting  for  my 
dissolution  these  nineteen  years,  must  be  left  behind  to  grovel  here 
below  !  Well,  this  is  my  comfort,  it  cannot  be  long  ere  the  chariots 
are  sent  even  for  worthless  me.  If  prayers  can  detain  them,  even  you, 
reverend  and  very  dear  sir,  shall  not  leave  us  yet ;  but  if  the  decree  is 
gone  forth  that  you  must  now  fall  asleep  in  Jesus,  may  He  kiss  your  soul 
away,  and  give  you  to  die  in  the  embraces  of  triumphant  love.  If  in  the 
land  of  the  living,  I  hope  to  pay  my  last  respects  to  you  next  week  ;  if  not, 
reverend  and  dear  sir,  farewell !  I  pra,  sequar,  etsi  non  passibus  aquis. 
My  heart  is  too  big,  tears  trickle  down  too  fast,  and  I  fear  you  are  too 
weak  for  me  to  enlarge.  May  underneath  you  be  Christ's  everlasting 
arms  !     I  commend  you  to  His  never-failing  mercy.' 

Wesley  disappointed  his  friends'  fears  by  slowly  regaining 
his  health.  He  who  seemed  so  nigh  to  his  rest  returned  to 
work  for  almost  forty  years  longer,  and,  among  other  services, 
preached  the  funeral  sermon  of  his  brother  Whitefield.  It 
was  the  cause  of  sincere  joy  to  Whitefield  to  see  his  fellow- 


17 SITS  LISBON  291 

labourers  spared  to  stand  by  his  side ;  he  prayed  that  the 
Wesleys  might  both  spring  up  afresh,  and  their  latter  end 
increase  more  and  more.  '  Talk  not  of  having  no  more  work 
in  the  vineyard,'  he  wrote  to  Charles;  'I  hope  all  our  work  is 
but  just  beginning.  I  am  sure  it  is  high  time  to  do  some- 
thing for  Him  who  hath  done  and  suffered  so  much  for  me. 
Near  forty  years  old,  and  such  a  dwarf!  The  winter  come 
already,  and  so  little  done  in  the  summer  !  I  am  ashamed  ;  I 
blush,  and  am  confounded  ! ' 

This  winter  of  affliction  for  the  Wesleys  was  one  of  much 
physical  prostration  to  Whitefield  also  ;  every  sermon,  he  says, 
was  fetched  out  of  the  furnace.  He  itinerated  between  Ports- 
/  mouth  and  Scotland  and  back  in  this  state.  When  spring 
I  came  he  sailed  with  twenty-two  orphans  for  Georgia,  via 
h  Lisbon.  This  was  his  ninth  voyage ;  and  his  reason  for 
I  making  it  by  way  of  Lisbon  was  that  as  a  preacher  and  a 
Protestant  he  might  see  something  of  the  superstitions  of 
the  Church  of  Rome.  For  this  purpose  he  could  have  chosen 
no  better  season  and  no  better  place ;  he  was  in  time  for 
all  the  pageantry  and  activity  of  Easter  week.  A  gentleman 
of  the  factory,  whose  brother  had  received  good  through 
Whitefield's  preaching,  welcomed  the  evangelist  to  his  house, 
and  afforded  him  every  opportunity  of  gratifying  his  wishes. 
Nor  were  these  the  wishes  of  idle  curiosity.  Whitefield 
delighted  in  travelling  for  the  sake  of  preaching  and  also 
for  the  sake  of  seeing  men  and  things.  He  thought  that 
it  expanded  a  man's  mind  to  see  strange  places  and  fresh 
customs ;  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  own  wide 
charity  was  due  in  no  small  degree  to  his  intercourse  with 
men  of  all  classes,  of  all  Churches,  and  of  many  nations. 
At  first  he  did  not  care  much  for  the  distinctions  between 
Churches ;  and  when  Quakers,  Independents,  Presbyterians, 
and     Baptists    showed     him    equal    kindness    wherever    he 


292  GEORGE   WHITEE1ELD 

travelled,  and  displayed  the  great  qualities  of  purity  and  love, 
he  cared  yet  less.  A  more  impartial  Christian  it  would  be  hard 
to  find.  He  expected  perfection  in  none,  and  hailed  every 
tendency  to  it  in  all.  Even  Lisbon  was  to  do  more  than 
present  him  with  things  to  be  hated  and  shunned.  Amid 
so  much  that  was  against  his  judgment  and  conscience, 
there  were  things  to  delight  his  taste.  The  singing  in  St. 
Domingo  Church  by  the  Dominican  friars  while  the  queen 
performed  her  devotions  there,  was  '  most  surprisingly  sweet.' 
The  action  of  the  preachers,  a  great  number  of  whom  he 
heard,  struck  him  as  most  graceful.  '  Vividi  oa//i,  vivida 
manus,  omnia  vivida?  He  thought,  as  he  beheld  their  im- 
pressive gesticulation  and  heard  their  tender  tones,  that 
English  preachers,  who  have  truth  on  their  side,  would  do 
well  to  be  a  little  more  fervent  in  their  address,  and  not 
let  falsehood  and  superstition  run  away  with  all  that  is 
pathetic  and  affecting.  The  city  was  a  scene  to  make  him 
all  eye  and  ear.  There  were  images  of  saints  with  lanterns 
burning  in  front  of  them,  and  churches  hung  with  purple 
damask  trimmed  with  gold.  There  were  the  richest  and 
noblest  of  the  land  bowing  before  the  gorgeous  altars,  or 
hurrying  from  church  to  church  to  offer  their  sacrifices. 
There  was  the  spectacle  of  the  king,  attended  with  his 
nobles,  washing  the  feet  of  twelve  poor  men,  and  of  the 
queen  and  ier  royal  daughters  doing  the  same  to  twelve 
poor  women.  There  were  processions  of  penitents,  headed 
by  preaching  friars  bearing  crucifixes  in  their  hands,  which 
they  held  up  before  the  eyes  of  the  devotees  as  they  exhorted 
them  to  fresh  acts  of  sacrifice.  His  soul  was  moved  with  pity 
as  he  saw  by  moonlight  one  night  some  two  hundred  penitents, 
dressed  in  white  linen  vestments,  barefooted,  and  with  heavy 
chains  attached  to  their  ankles,  which  made  a  dismal  noise  as 
they  passed  along  the  streets ;  some  carried  great  stones  on 


HIS   WIFE'S  LONELINESS  293 

their  backs,  and  others  dead  men's  bones  and  skulls  in  their 
hands  ;  most  of  them  whipped  and  lashed  themselves  with 
cords  or  with  flat  bits  of  iron.  Even  in  the  moonlight  the 
effects  of  their  heavy  penances  could  be  seen  on  their  red  and 
swollen  backs.  It  struck  him  as  a  horrible  sight,  in  the  same 
church  where  he  so  greatly  admired  the  singing,  that  over  the 
great  window  were  the  heads  of  many  Jews,  painted  on  canvas, 
who  had  been  condemned  by  the  inquisition,  and  carried  out 
from  that  church  to  be  burnt.  ''Strange  way  this  of  com- 
pelling people  to  come  in  ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  Such  was  not 
Thy  method,  O  meek  and  compassionate  Lamb  of  God !  But 
bigotry  is  as  cruel  as  the  grave.'  The  whole  time  was,  as  he 
said,  instructive,  though  silent. 

His  wife  was  not  with  him  this  voyage,  indeed  she  seems  to 
have  performed  but  one  long  journey  with  him  after  their  mar- 
riage. Her  health  was  unequal  to  the  trials  of  an  American 
summer;  and  it  would  have  been  useless  for  her  to  have 
travelled  with  him  as  a  companion  from  place  to  place. 
He  could  but  leave  her  to  her  own  resources  and  the  kind- 
ness of  his  friends — not  a  pleasant  position  for  a  wife,  but 
the  best  in  which  he  could  place  her,  unless  he  relinquished 
his  evangelistic  work,  and  that  would  simply  have  overturned 
his  whole  plan  of  life,  and  violated  his  most  solemn  convic- 
tions. He  implored  one  of  his  London  friends  to  visit  his 
wife  frequently.  'Add  to  my  obligations,'  he  said,  'by  fre- 
quently visiting  my  poor  wife.  Kindnesses  shown  to  her  in  my 
absence  will  be  double  kindnesses.' 

With  a  family,  but  not  with  his  wife,  he  arrived  at  Bethesda, 
which  he  found  in  a  flourishing  state,  as  was  also  the  colony. 
He  had  a  hundred  and  six  persons,  black  and  white,  to  pro- 
vide for  and  to  guide ;  and  he  seems  to  have  known  the  ages 
and  capabilities  and  condition  of  all  at  the  orphan-house,  and 
often  to  have  sent  specific  and  peremptory  directions  concern- 


294  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

ing  particular  cases.  Honour,  too,  was  beginning  to  come  to 
early  and  faithful  colonists.  His  friend  Habersham,  who  came 
over  with  him  at  his  first  voyage,  and  to  whom  he  committed 
the  temporal  affairs  of  the  orphan-house,  was  now  appointed 
secretary  of  the  colony ;  afterwards  he  became  president  of  the 
Council  and  Commons  House  of  Assembly.  Whitefield  him- 
self received  from  the  new  college  of  New  Jersey,  for  which  he 
had  greatly  exerted  himself  before  leaving  England,  the  degree 
of  Master  of  Arts.  Altogether  a  better  reception  was  given 
him  by  the  country  than  he  had  received  fourteen  years  before, 
and  that,  as  we  have  seen,  was  gratifying  enough.  His  weak- 
nesses still  clung  to  him,  that  is,  his  weaknesses  of  the  flesh, 
and  from  this  time  he  may  be  considered  a  confirmed  invalid 
who  refused  to  be  invalided ;  but  his  strength  of  heart  was  not 
at  all  diminished,  and  when  he  got  as  far  north  as  Portsmouth, 
he  said  in  the  quietest  way,  '  I  am  now  come  to  the  end  of  my 
northward  line,  and  in  a  day  or  two  purpose  to  turn  back,  in 
order  to  preach  all  the  way  to  Georgia.  It  is  about  a  sixteen 
hundred  miles'  journey.'  This  was  he  who  was  ashamed  of 
his  sloth  and  lukewarmness,  and  longed  to  be  on  the  stretch 
for  God !  Yet  again,  when  his  ride  of  two  thousand  miles  was 
ended,  scenes  of  wonder  having  opened  all  the  way,  and  when 
he  had  preached  for  nearly  five  months,  he  longed  to  have 
time  to  spend  in  retirement  and  deep  humiliation  before  that 
Saviour  for  whom  he  had  done  so  little  !  He  had  learnt  to  be 
humble. 

Whitefield's  tenth  voyage  was  performed  in  the  spring  of 
1755.  About  two  months  after  his  arrival  in  England  his 
friend  Cennick  died.  '  John  Cennick,'  he  said,  '  is  now 
added  to  the  happy  number  of  those  who  see  God  as  He 
is.  I  do  not  envy,  but  want  to  follow  after  him.'  If  not 
a  strong  Christian,  Cennick  was  a  very  devout  one  ;  and  the 
Church  cannot  forget  her  indebtedness  to  him  for  a  few  good 


DEATH  OF  JOHN  CENNICK  295 

hymns  which  he  added  to  her  treasury.  Some  tender,  beau- 
tiful lines,  headed  '  Nunc  dimitiis,'  were  found  in  his  pocket- 
book  when  he  died.     Here  are  some  of  them  : — 

'  I  never  am  forsaken  or  alone  ; 
Thou  kissest  all  my  tears  and  griefs  away  ; 
Art  with  me  all  night  long,  and  all  the  day  ; 
I  have  no  doubt  that  I  belong  to  Thee, 
And  shall  be  with  Thee  to  eternity. 
I  would  not  Thee  offend — Thou  know'st  my  heart — 
Nor  one  short  day  before  Thy  time  depart : 
But  I  am  weary  and  dejected  too, 
O  let  me  to  eternal  Sabbath  go.' 

Whitefield  found  the  Methodists  very  lively  in  England,  and 
had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  that  several  clergymen  were 
preaching  those  truths  which  he  had  done  so  much  to  pro- 
pagate. But  enemies  were  also  alert.  He  found  it  difficult  to 
keep  clear  of  collision  with  Wesley's  friends,  his  own  admirers 
and  they  being,  as  usual,  as  careless  about  unneighbourly  acts 
as  their  leaders  were  anxious  to  love  and  serve  one  another. 
He  also  had  open  and  dangerous  opposition  from  some 
ruffians  in  the  metropolis.  It  was  to  be  expected  that  one  who 
eclipsed  the  best  actors  of  the  day  in  grace  of  action  and  natural 
ness  of  expression  (Garrick  said  he  would  give  a  hundred 
guineas  to  be  able  to  say  '  Oh '  as  did  Whitefield),  and  who, 
at  the  same  time,  assailed  theatre-going  with  unsparing 
severity,  would  be  attacked  in  turn.  The  trouble  with  ad- 
mirers of  the  stage  this  time  was  of  a  complicated  kind,  and  it 
is  difficult  to  say  how  much  they  were  to  blame ;  for  play- 
houses, a  bishop  and  his  vestry,  and  Roman  Catholics,  who 
hated  King  George,  are  mingled  in  a  strange  medley  in  the 
story.  It  is  possible  to  get  consistency  only  by  supposing  that 
all  these  hated  the  Methodist  for  special  reasons  of  their  own, 
and  were,  by  this  common  feeling,  banded  against  him.     Even 


// 


296  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

hatred  of  the  same  thing  will  make  enemies  wondrous  kind  for 
a  season.  The  Seven  Years'  War  was  also  raging,  and  feeling 
ran  high.  Some  religious  people,  apparently  the  Dissenters, 
had  built  a  chapel,  called  Long  Acre  Chapel,  near  the  play- 
houses. It  was  an  unconsecrated  building,  duly  licensed  for 
preaching ;  its  minister  was  the  Rev.  John  Barnard,  an  In- 
dependent, one  of  Whitefield's  converts.  Mr.  Barnard  asked 
Whitefield  to  preach  in  his  chapel  twice  a  week,  and  Whitefield 
consented  to  do  so  on  the  understanding  that  he  might  use 
the  liturgy  if  he  thought  proper ;  for  he  judged  that  he  might 
'  innocently  preach  the  love  of  a  crucified  Redeemer,  without 
giving  any  just  offence  to  Jew  or  Gentile,  much  less  to  any 
bishop  or  overseer  of  the  Church  of  God.;  Every  one  was  not 
of  his  mind.  A  band  of  roughs  were  hired  to  disturb  him 
while  he  preached,  by  making  a  noise  with  a  copper  furnace, 
bells,  drum,  &c,  at  the  chapel  door.  Part  of  their  pay  came 
from  some  gentlemen  of  the  vestry  of  the  Bishop  of  Bangor 
and  Dean  of  Westminster,  Dr.  Zachary  Pearce ;  and  they  did 
their  work  to  perfection.  They  used  more  dangerous  means 
of  silencing  the  obnoxious  preacher  than  drums ;  they  threw 
stones  through  the  windows  at  him,  and  always  missed  him, 
though  some  one  else  suffered ;  they  rioted  at  the  door,  and 
abused  him  and  his  congregation  as  they  were  leaving  the 
chapel.  Things  were  serious,  though  Whitefield  with  his 
strong  sense  of  humour  called  their  behaviour  'a  serenading 
from  the  sons  of  Jubal  and  Cain.'  An  appeal  made  by  him 
to  a  magistrate  procured  protection  for  a  time.  An  appeal  to 
Dr.  Pearce  was  less  successful ;  that  prelate  forbade  his 
preaching  in  the  chapel  again ;  but  his  inhibition  was  use- 
less. Whitefield  continued  his  work.  The  bishop's  vestry 
now  revived  the  persecution  by  the  mob ;  and  Whitefield 
made  repeated  appeals  to  this  exemplary  overseer  to  stay 
the   violence,   and   he   appealed   in   vain !      Several   persons 


RIOTS  AT  LONG  ACRE  CHAPEL  297 

were  seriously  injured,  and  he  himself  was  threatened  with 
death.  Once  when  he  entered  the  pulpit,  he  found  a  letter 
laid  upon  the  cushion,  which  threatened  him  with  'a  certain, 
sudden,  and  unavoidable  stroke,  unless  he  desisted  from 
preaching  and  pursuing  the  offenders  by  law.'  It  was  his 
determination,  formed  with  the  advice  of  some  members  of 
the  Government,  to  prosecute  the  offenders,  that  made  them 
assail  him  in  this  cowardly  way ;  and  it  is  certain  there  were 
some  with  audacity  and  wickedness  enough  to  give  the  stroke. 
For  some  unusual  purpose  a  man  followed  him  into  the  pulpit 
of  the  Tabernacle  while  the  Long  Acre  trouble  was  at  its  worst ; 
and  it  was  generally  supposed  that  he  was  an  assassin.  White- 
field  dared  the  worst,  and  let  the  prosecution  go  on,  until  its 
preparation  to  enter  the  King's  Bench  terrified  his  enemies. 
One  of  them  also  had  previously  come  under  better  influences, 
and  regretted  the  part  he  had  taken  in  paying  ruffians  to  com- 
mit violence. 

The  letters  to  the  Bishop  of  Bangor  are  important  for  more 
than  the  information  they  give  of  the  rioting.  They  give  us  a 
last  explanation  and  vindication  of  the  course  Whitefield  had 
followed  for  so  many  years,  and  which  he  followed  to  his 
death.  The  letters  of  the  bishop  to  Whitefield  were  not 
published,  because  Whitefield  thought  that  it  would  be  a 
breach  of  courtesy  to  proclaim  their  contents,  and  his  lordship, 
fearing  exposure,  had  signified  his  intention  to  use  his  right  as 
a  peer  to  hinder  them  from  appearing ;  but  it  is  easy  to  see 
what  their  substance  must  have  been,  from  the  answers  they 
received.  Dr.  Pearce  had  charged  Whitefield  with  unfaithful- 
ness to  the  Church  of  England,  and  the  reply  was  : — 

'  For  near  these  twenty  years  past,  as  thousands  can  testify,  I  have  con- 
scientiously defended  her  homilies  and  articles,  and  upon  all  occasions 
spoken  well  of  her  liturgy.  Either  of  these,  together  with  her  discipline, 
I  am  so  far  from  renouncing,  much  less  from  throwing  aside  all  regard  to, 


298  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

that  I  earnestly  pray  for  the  clue  restoration  of  the  one,  and  daily  lament 
the  wanton  departure  of  too,  too  many  from  the  other.  But,  my  lord, 
what  can  I  do?  When  I  acted  in  the  most  regular  manner,  and  when 
I  was  bringing  multitudes  even  of  Dissenters  themselves  to  crowd  the 
churches,  without  any  other  reason  being  given  than  that  of  too  many 
followers  after  me,  I  was  denied  the  use  of  them.  Being  thus  excluded, 
and  many  thousands  of  ignorant  souls,  that  perhaps  would  neither  go  to 
church  nor  meeting-houses,  being  very  hungry  after  the  gospel,  I  thought 
myself  bound  in  duty  to  deal  out  to  them  the  bread  of  life.  Being  further 
ambitious  to  serve  my  God,  my  king,  and  my  country,  I  sacrificed  my 
affections  and  left  my  native  soil,  in  order  to  begin  and  carry  on  an  orphan- 
house  in  the  infant  colony  of  Georgia,  which,  through  the  Divine  blessing, 
is  put  upon  a  good  foundation.  This  served  as  an  introduction,  though 
without  my  design,  to  my  visiting  the  other  parts  of  his  Majesty's 
dominions  in  North  America  ;  and  I  humbly  hope  that  many  made  truly 
serious  in  that  foreign  clime  will  be  my  joy  and  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the 
day  of  the  Lord  Jesus. 

'  Your  lordship  judgeth  exceeding  right  when  you  say,  "  I  presume  you 
do  not  mean  to  declare  any  dissent  from  the  Church  of  England."  Far  be 
it  from  me  ;  no,  my  loid,  unless  thrust  out,  I  shall  never  leave  her,  and 
even  then  (as  I  hope  whenever  it  happens  it  will  be  an  unjust  extrusion)  I 
shall  continue  to  adhere  to  her  doctrines,  and  pray  for  the  much  wished- 
for  restoration  of  her  discipline,  even  to  my  dying  day.  Fond  of  displaying 
her  truly  Protestant  and  orthodox  principles,  especially  when  Church  and 
State  are  in  danger  from  a  cruel  and  Popish  enemy,  I  am  glad,  my  lord,  of 
an  opportunity  of  preaching,  though  it  be  in  a  meeting-house:  and  I  think 
it  discovers  a  good  and  moderate  spirit  in  the  Dissenters,  who  will  quietly 
attend  on  the  Church  service,  as  many  have  done  and  continue  to  do  at 
Long  Acre  Chapel,  while  many,  who  I  suppose  style  themselves  her  faith- 
ful sons,  by  very  improper  instruments  of  reformation,  have  endeavoured  to 
disturb  and  molest  us.' 

Another  extract  from  the  letter  cannot  be  read  without 
great  pain  by  any  one  who  holds  that  the  acceptance  of  creeds 
or  the  subjection  to  canons  ought  to  be  made  in  simple, 
literal  honesty,  without  qualifications  or  reservations  of  any 
kind.  Whitefield's  answer  to  the  bishop  might  be  irrefragable 
if  treated  upon  the  ground  on  which  he  placed  it ;  but  truth 
should  not  be  made  dependent  upon  the  customs  of  any  class 
of  men,  otherwise  the  law  of  God  is  made  void  by  human 


CANONS  AND  CUE  EDS  299 

tradition.     Neither  were  matters  mended  by  his  appealing  so 
solemnly  to  the  Almighty,  as  he  did  in  the  following  words  : — 

'  But,  my  lord,  to  come  nearer  to  the  point  in  hand — and  for  Christ's 
sake  let  not  your  lordship  he  offended  by  ray  using  such  plainness  of 
speech— I  would,  as  in  the  presence  of  the  living  God,  put  it  to  your 
lordship's  conscience  whether  there  is  one  hishop  or  presbyter  in  England, 
Wales,  or  Ireland,  that  looks  upon  our  canons  as  his  rule  of  action?  Ii 
they  do,  we  are  all  perjured  with  a  witness,  and  consequently  in  a  very 
bad  sense  of  the  word  irregular  indeed.  When  canons  and  other  Church 
laws  are  invented  and  compiled  by  men  of  little  hearts  and  bigoted  prin- 
ciples on  purpose  to  hinder  persons  of  more  enlarged  souls  from  doing 
good,  or  being  more  extensively  useful,  they  become  mere  briita  fulmina ; 
and  when  made  use  of  only  as  cords  to  bind  up  the  hands  of  a  zealous  few, 
that  honestly  appear  for  their  king,  their  country,  and  their  God,  like  the 
withes  with  which  the  Philistines  bound  Samson,  in  my  opinion  they  may 
very  legally  be  broken.  ...  As  good  is  done,  and  souls  are  benefited,  I 
hope  your  lordship  will  not  regard  a  little  irregularity,  since  at  the  worst  it 
is  only  the  irregularity  of  doing  well.' 

Impossible  as  it  is  to  withhold  sympathy  from  an  irregular 
well-doer,  who  was  singled  out  as  the  object  of  pastoral 
warnings  and  the  mark  of  scoundrels'  brickbats,  while  card- 
playing,  gambling,  idle  clergymen  were  passed  by  without 
rebuke  or  punishment,  there  is  no  gainsaying  that  he  was 
irregular.  To  judge  his  conscience  is  not  our  office  ;  but  it 
would  have  made  one  inconsistency  the  less  in  his  life  had 
he  severed  himself  from  a  Church  with  which  he  could  hold 
but  a  nominal  connection  so  long  as  he  persisted  in  his 
irregularities  ;  and  it  would  have  been  a  yet  happier  thing  had 
no  Church  been  so  rigid  in  its  forms  as  to  make  the  warmest 
zeal  and  the  tenderest  love  in  its  communion  things  which 
it  could  not  tolerate,  and  yet  remain  true  to  its  constitution. 
It  is  strange  when  the  best  Christian  becomes  the  most  objec- 
tionable member  of  a  Church. 

Early  in  1756,  the  year  which  our  narrative  has  now  reached, 
a  great  change  passed  over  Whitefield's  personal  appearance. 


300  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

The  graceful  figure  which  was  familiar  on  many  a  common 
and  park  and  market- cross  of  England,  which  Londoners 
knew  so  well  as  he  rapidly  walked  their  streets,  and  country 
people  recognised  as  he  dashed  along  their  lanes,  attended  by 
a  knot  of  brethren  on  horseback,  in  haste  to  meet  some 
mighty  congregation,  or  rode  slowly  along,  pondering  his  next 
sermon  or  silently  communing  with  God — that  figure  which 
was  associated  with  the  godly  young  man  who  entranced  and 
awed  his  countrymen — was  now  changed,  when  he  was  forty- 
two  years  old,  into  the  heavy,  corpulent,  unwieldy  form,  which 
several  painters  and  engravers  have  preserved  for  us  in  their 
likenesses  of  the  great  preacher.1  The  observation  of  the 
common  people  who  heard  him  gladly  has  pictured  him  in 
happy  lines,  as  they  knew  him  in  his  earlier  and  in  his  later 
days.  It  is  the  bold  and  active  young  preacher  whom  we  see 
when  we  hear  him  described  by  a  poor  man  as  one  who 
'preached  like  a  lion.'  It  is  the  stout  man  of  middle  age 
whom  we  see  when  another  describes  him  as  '  a  jolly,  brave 
man,  and  sich  a  look  with  him.'2  And  no  doubt  his  kindly 
face  and  rounded  form  did  make  him  seem  '  a  jolly,  brave 
man  ' ;  but  the  truth  is,  that  this  change  was  owing  wholly  to 

1  These  likenesses  were  a  great  bugbear  to  him  ;  he  especially  disliked 
that  in  which  he  is  represented  with  his  hands  lifted  above  his  head,  an 
attitude  which  he  seldom  assumed,  and  but  for  a  moment.  He  used  to 
say  that  he  should  hate  himself  were  he  '  the  sour-looking  creature '  they 
represented  him  to  be.  They  all  agree  in  painting  him  with  a  massive 
chin  and  a  large  mouth,  pinched  tight  at  the  corners,  and  long,  flexible 
lips,  capable  of  expressing  anything — the  orator's  lips. 

2  The  words  are  those  of  an  aged  Oxfordshire  peasant,  and  were  spoken 
in  answer  to  the  question,  whether  he  remembered  Whitefield's  appearance. 
'  Ay,  sure,'  said  he,  '  he  was  a  jolly,  brave  man  ;  and  what  a  look  he  had 
when  he  put  out  his  right  hand  thus,  to  rebuke  a  disturber  as  tried  to  stop 
him,  under  the  pear-tree.  The  man  had  been  very  threatening  and  noisy  ; 
but  he  could  not  stand  the  look.  Off  he  rode,  and  Whitefield  said, 
"  There  he  goes;  empty  barrels  make  most  din."  '  An  American  said  he 
was  '  a  cheery,  a  very  cheery  old  gentleman. ' 


PERSONAL  APPEARANCE  301 

disease.  It  was  neither  less  work  nor  less  care  that  made  him 
seem  so  hale.  As  for  work,  he  says  :  '  I  have  been  enabled 
to  preach  twice  and  thrice  a  day  to  many,  many  thousands  for 
these  two  months  last  past.  And  yet  I  cannot  die.  Nay, 
they  tell  me  I  grow  fat.  I  dread  a  corpulent  body ;  but  it 
breaks  in  upon  me  like  an  armed  man.'  Preaching  failed  to 
cure,  it  rather  increased,  his  complaint.  When  advised  by 
a  physician  to  try  a  perpetual  blister  for  an  inflammatory 
quinsey,  he  changed  the  receipt  and  tried  perpetual  preaching; 
and  he  vigorously  and  perseveringly  applied  the  same  remedy 
to  corpulency,  flux,  and  asthma,  but  not  with  the  same  success. 
He  was  doomed  to  carry  a  heavy  burden  of  flesh. 

He  had  care  as  well  as  work.  It  had  been  his  plan  to 
give  those  who  helped  at  the  orphan-house  no  certain  income, 
or  a  very  slender  one :  he  said  that  if  they  loved  him  they 
would  serve  him  disinterestedly;  he  asked  nothing  for  his  own 
exhausting  toils  but  food  and  raiment,  and  judged  that  others 
should  be  equally  devoted.  This  surrounded  him  with  syco- 
phants, who  pretended  to  be  as  high-minded  as  he  wanted  to 
see  them,  and  who  humoured  his  impatience  of  contradiction, 
but  who  at  the  same  time  served  themselves  in  an  under- 
handed way.  He  could  be  roughly  honest  himself,  and  might 
well  have  borne  with  it  among  the  managers  of  his  institution  ; 
the  smooth  deceit  which  crept  into  office  turned  upon  him 
and  pierced  him,  when  its  time  came. 

When  Whitefield  had  got  one  permanent  chapel  in  London, 
he  began  to  feel  that  it  would  be  useful  to  have  a  second,  in 
another  part  of  the  city.  The  foundation-stone  of  Tottenham 
Court  Chapel  was  accordingly  laid  by  himself  on  May  10, 
1756,  and  the  building  opened  for  worship  on  November  7th, 
the  same  year.  It  became  the  mother  of  many  chapels,  and 
the  birthplace  of  many  souls.  It  was  now  becoming  a  difficult 
question  for  the  increasing  number  of  Methodists,  who,  like 


302  GEORGE   WHITEF1ELD 

Whitefield  and  Wesley,  nominally  adhered  to  the  Established 
Church,  and  called  themselves  Churchmen,  to  determine  their 
standpoint.  Churchmen  they  might  be  in  name  and  spirit 
and  faith,  but  Churchmen  in  modes  of  action  they  were  not. 
As  Methodists  they  were  no  part  of  the  Church  of  England, 
neither  would  she  recognise  them  ;  yet  they  were  not  Dis- 
senters. They  did  not  feel  the  objections  of  the  Independents 
to  Episcopacy;  they  did  not  feel  the  scruples  of  Baptists 
about  the  baptism  of  infants ;  they  did  not  feel  the  repugnance 
of  Quakers  to  forms  and  sacraments  of  every  kind ;  they  did 
not  feel  the  abhorrence  of  Presbyterians  to  prelates  and  the 
liturgy.  Neither  State  nor  Church  had  made  any  provision 
for  this  new  people.  The  action  of  the  Church  had  already 
been  taken  ;  it  now  remained  for  the  State  to  determine  its 
mode  of  procedure.  It  quietly  let  Methodism  fall  into  the 
ranks  of  Dissent,  politically  considered.  There  was  a  Tolera- 
tion Act,  and  the  worshippers  in  the  new  tabernacles  and 
chapels  that  were  beginning  to  multiply  might  avail  themselves 
of  its  protection.  Hence  it  has  followed  that  this  movement, 
which  arose  at  Oxford,  which  was  impelled  and  guided  by 
duly  ordained  clergymen,  and  which  might  have  crowded  the 
Church  of  England  with  vast  congregations  of  devout  and 
holy  people,  has  become  more  and  more  identified  with  the 
oldest  and  most  extreme  forms  of  dissent  in  this  land. 
Whitefield's  chapels  and  those  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon 
are  all  Independent  chapels,  the  use  of  the  liturgy  in  some 
of  them  not  hindering  either  minister  or  congregation  from 
declaring  that  they  regard  the  union  of  State  and  Church  as 
an  unholy  alliance,  damaging  to  the  Church  and  burdensome 
and  useless  to  the  State.  Even  the  society  which  Wesley 
established,  and  the  members  of  which  he  so  solemnly  coun- 
selled to  abide  loyal  to  the  Church  of  which  he  was  a  minister, 
has  gradually  gone  the  way  of  all  dissenting  societies ;  it  has 


METHODISTS  AND  THE  TOLERATION  ACT    303 

also  declared  firmly  that  it  will  not  return  to  the  ancient  fold, 
to  which  it  has  been  invited  back.  It  is  thus  happening 
that  Methodism,  which  never  contemplated  any  severance 
from  the  Church  at  all,  is  aiding  to  bring  about  the  dissolution 
of  a  bond  which  has  existed  ever  since  the  Reformation.  Its 
numbers  are  multiplied  by  tens  of  thousands  ;  its  chapels 
throng  every  town,  and  stand  in  every  village  in  England ;  its 
ministers  and  lay  preachers  and  helpers  are  legion ;  baptism 
and  the  Lord's  Supper  are  duly  administered  within  its  pale  ; 
its  adherents  are  married  and  buried  by  their  own  spiritual 
teachers.  A  denomination  or  denominations  constituted  and 
managed  in  this  way  are  not  likely  to  long  for  other  pastures 
and  another  fold.  Nor  is  their  unwillingness  to  be  absorbed, 
or  appended  as  an  auxiliary,  decreased  by  some  petty  annoy- 
ances, remnants  of  former  days,  to  which  they  are  subjected. 
Their  social  disadvantages  in  villages  and  country  districts,  the 
injustice  with  which  their  children  are  forced  into  High  Church 
day  schools,  and  the  rudeness  which  too  often  shocks  and 
pains  them  at  the  parish  churchyard,  serve  to  excite  their 
anger  and  hostility.  As  Englishmen  they  cannot  help  asking 
themselves  what  is  their  fault,  what  their  sin,  that  they  should 
be  thus  treated  ;  and  when  they  see  that  it  is  only  their  love 
of  Methodism  and  their  attendance  upon  its  services,  they 
cleave  all  the  more  closely  to  their  denomination.  How 
distant  does  all  this  seem  to  be  from  the  day  when  Whitefield 
strove  to  put  his  new  chapel  in  Tottenham  Court  Road  under 
the  protection  of  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  and  thus  to 
preserve  it  for  the  Church  ;  and  when  the  Countess  herself 
was  annoyed  at  nothing  so  much  as  at  the  idea  of  one  of  her 
ministers  becoming  a  Dissenter.  Berridge  of  Everton  wrote 
to  her  twenty  years  after  the  opening  of  this  chapel,  and  seven 
after  the  death  of  Whitefield,  in  a  strain  which  shows  that 
even  at  that  time,  although  she  had  practically  been  a  Dis- 


304  GEORGE   WHITE EI  ELD 

senter  for  forty  years,  she  disliked  her  position,  and  was 
impatient  when  any  one  told  her  the  bare  truth  about  it. 
But  Berridge  was  an  honest  man,  and  minded  little  how  any 
one  resented  his  plain  speaking.  His  language  to  the  Countess 
was  : — 

'  However  rusty  or  rickety  the  Dissenters  may  appear  to  you,  God  hath 
His  remnant  among  them  ;  therefore  lift  not  up  your  hand  against  them 
for  the  Lord's  sake,  nor  yet  for  consistency's  sake,  because  your  students 
are  as  real  Dissenting  preachers  as  any  in  the  land,  unless  a  gown  and 
band  can  make  a  clergyman.  The  bishops  look  on  your  students  as  the 
worst  kind  of  Dissenters ;  and  manifest  this  by  refusing  that  ordination  to 
your  preachers  which  would  be  readily  granted  to  other  teachers  among  the 
Dissenters.' 

There  are  other  passages  in  the  same  letter  which  describe, 
almost  with  the  accuracy  of  prophecy,  the  course  of  future 
events  in  Methodism  and  in  the  Establishment,  and  which 
might  afford  food  for  profitable  thought  even  yet. 

With  regard  to  his  new  chapel,  Whitefield  wrote  to  Lady 
Huntingdon  to  say  that  they  had  consulted  the  Commons 
about  putting  it  under  her  ladyship's  protection,  and  that  the 
answer  was  : — 

'  No  nobleman  can  license  a  chapel,  or  in  any  manner  have  one  put 
in  his  dwelling-house  ;  that  the  chapel  must  be  a  private  one,  and  not  with 
doors  to  the  street  for  any  persons  to  resort  to  at  pleasure,  for  then  it 
becomes  a  public  one  ;  that  a  chapel  cannot  be  built  and  used  as  such 
without  the  consent  of  the  parson  of  the  parish,  and  when  it  is  done  with 
his  consent,  no  minister  can  preach  therein,  without  licence  of  the  bishop 
of  the  diocese.' 

'  There  seems  then,'  he  says,  '  to  be  but  one  way,  to  license  it 
as  our  other  houses  are  ;  and  thanks  be  to  Jesus  for  that  liberty 
which  we  have.'  That  licensing  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
made  at  once,  for  it  was  in  1764  that  as  owner,  both  of  the 
Tabernacle,  Moorfields,  and  Tottenham  Court  Road  Chapel, 


PRACTICALL  V  AN  INDEPENDENT  MINISTER    305 

he  registered  them  in  the  registry  of  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
of  St.  Paul,  London,  as  '  meeting-places  of  certain  congrega- 
tions of  Protestant  Dissenters  from  the  Church  of  England 
calling  themselves  Independents.'  He  thus  became  the  owner 
of  two  Independent  chapels,  and  was  practically  an  Independent 
minister,  while  remaining  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of 
England. 

There  was  the  same  crush  of  hearers,  when  the  place  was 
opened,  as  there  had  been  at  the  Tabernacle.  Many  great 
people  came,  and  begged  that  they  might  have  a  constant 
seat.  A  neighbouring  physician  called  it  '  Whitefield's  soul- 
trap,'  and  by  that  name  it  was  commonly  known  among  the 
foolish  scoffers.  Among  the  distinguished  visitors  who  were 
accommodated  in  Lady  Huntingdon's  pew,  Lord  Chesterfield 
might  not  unfrequently  be  seen ;  and  once  his  rigid  decorum 
and  self-possession  were  as  much  overpowered  by  the  eloquence 
of  the  preacher  as  if  he  had  been  a  peasant  at  a  Cambuslang 
preaching  or  a  Welsh  miner  among  a  host  of  his  countrymen 
shouting,  '  Gogoniant  bendith  iti  !  '  Whitefield,  who  was 
unrivalled  in  description,  could  easily  make  his  hearers  see 
with  his  eyes,  and  feel  with  his  heart ;  and  on  this  occasion 
he  was  giving  a  vivid  and  horrifying  picture  of  the  peril  of 
sinners.  He  carried  his  audience  out  into  the  night,  and  nigh 
to  a  dangerous  precipice,  where  in  the  feeble  light  might  be 
seen,  dim  and  staggering,  the  form  of  an  old  man,  a  blind 
beggar,  deserted  by  his  dog.  The  old  man  stumbles  on,  staff 
in  hand,  vainly  endeavouring  to  discover  his  way.  His  face 
is  towards  the  cliff ;  step  by  step  he  advances  ;  his  foot  trembles 
on  the  edge  ;  another  moment  and  he  will  lie  mangled  in  the 
valley  below,  when  up  starts  the  agonised  Chesterfield,  crying 
as  he  bounds  forward  to  save  him,  '  Good  God  !  he  is  gone  ! ' 

Oratory  so  perfect  and  so  exciting  could  not  fail  to  bring 
some  actors  among  the  motley  throng  that  listened  to  him. 

21 


3o6  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Foote  and  Garrick  might  sometimes  be  seen  side  by  side ; 
their  opinion  was  that  the  sermon  was  preached  best  when 
preached  for  the  fortieth  time.  All  its  weaknesses  were  cut 
off,  and  all  its  ineffective  parts  suppressed  ;  all  its  impressive 
passages  were  retained,  and  improved  to  the  uttermost,  and 
his  memory  holding  with  unerring  accuracy  what  he  wished 
to  say,  his  tone  and  look  and  gesture  were  adapted  to  its 
utterance  with  perfect  art.  Yet  he  was  not  bound  by  memory, 
but  seized  upon  any  passing  circumstance,  and  turned  it  to 
account.  The  heavy  thunder-cloud  hanging  on  the  horizon, 
and  the  flash  of  lightning  which  rent  its  bosom,  were,  for  his 
field  congregations,  his  most  vivid  emblems  of  the  coming  day 
of  wrath.  A  scoffer's  levity  would  point  his  stern  rebuke ;  and 
a  penitent's  tear  seen  in  some  bedimmed  eye  would  prompt  a 
word  of  loving  encouragement. 

It  was  more  than  the  oratorical  display  which  attracted  to 
the  '  soul-trap '  Shuter,  who  was  pronounced  by  Garrick  the 
greatest  comic  genius  he  had  ever  seen.  Shuter  had  a  warm, 
kind  heart,  and  must  have  felt  his  better  nature  moved  by  the 
humanity  of  the  teaching  of  Whitefield.  It  was  he  who  came 
to  the  rescue  of  a  remarkable  play  which  was  rejected  by 
Garrick,  Powel,  and  Colman  ;  Goldsmith  thanked  him  with 
tears  in  his  eyes  for  having  established  the  reputation  of  his 
'  Good-Natured  Man,'  when  they  had  deemed  it  unfit  for 
production  on  the  stage.  He  also  acted  in  '  She  Stoops  to 
Conquer.'  At  the  time  of  his  first  coming  to  hear  Whitefield 
he  was  acting  the  part  of  Ramble  in  '  The  Rambler.'  The 
name  of  the  play  tempted  Whitefield  into  that  playing  upon 
words  to  which  he  was  somewhat  addicted,  and  in  the  use 
of  which  he  did  not  always  exhibit  the  best  taste.  Seeing 
Shuter  sitting  in  the  front  of  the  gallery — they  were  by  this  time 
known  to  each  other  personally — he  fixed  his  eye  upon  him, 
and  exclaimed  in  his  warm  invitation  to  sinners  to  come  to  the 


SHUTER  THE  COMEDIAN  307 

Lord  Jesus  :  '  And  thou,  poor  Ramble,  who  hast  long  rambled 
from  Him,  come  thou  also.  Oh,  end  thy  ramblings  by  coming 
to  Jesus.'  Shuter  went  to  Whitefield  at  the  close  of  the  ser- 
vice, and  said  to  him :  '  I  thought  I  should  have  fainted — how 
could  you  serve  me  so  ? '  But  neither  this  pointed  appeal, 
nor  many  others  to  which  he  listened,  succeeded  in  drawing 
him  from  his  unsatisfying  life  to  a  nobler  career.  His  part  in 
the  production  of  Goldsmith's  plays,  which  appeared  two 
years  before  White  field's  death,  shows  that  he  continued  to 
follow  his  old  calling.  There  is,  however,  an  anecdote  told 
of  him  which  proves  that  the  old  thoughts  and  feelings  were 
not  extinguished,  if  they  were  not  sufficiently  strong  to  rule 
him.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Kinsman,  who  was  an  intimate  friend 
of  his,  and  had  tried  hard  to  wean  him  from  his  profession, 
met  him  one  day  in  Portsmouth,  and  said  to  him  that  he  had 
been  preaching  so  often,  and  to  such  large  congregations,  that 
his  physician  advised  change  of  air  for  his  health. 

'  And  I,'  said  Shuter,  '  have  been  acting  till  ready  to  die  ;  but  oh,  how 
different  our  conditions  !  Had  you  fallen,  it  would  have  been  in  the 
service  of  God ;  but  in  whose  service  have  my  powers  been  wasted  ?  I 
dread  to  think  of  it.  I  certainly  had  a  call  once,  while  studying  my 
part  in  the  Park,  and  had  Mr.  Whitefield  received  me  at  the  Lord's  table 
I  never  should  have  gone  back  ;  but  the  caresses  of  the  great,  who,  when 
unhappy,  want  Shuter  to  make  them  laugh,  are  too  seducing.  There  is  a 
good  and  moral  play  to-night ;  but  no  sooner  is  it  over  than  I  come  in  with 
my  farce  of  "  A  Dish  of  all  Sorts,"  and  knock  all  the  moral  on  the  head.' 

When  his  friends  rated  him  as  a  Methodist,  because  they  had 
seen  him  with  Mr.  Kinsman,  he  said :  '  A  precious  method 
is  mine  ;  no,  I  wish  I  were  ;  if  any  be  right,  they  are.'  Lady 
Huntingdon  gives  us  yet  another  glimpse  of  this  kind-hearted 
actor.     Writing  from  Bath  to  Lady  Fanny  Shirley,  she  says  : — 

'  I  have  had  a  visit  from  Shuter  the  comedian,  whom  I  saw  in  the  street, 
and  asked  to  call  on  me.    He  was  wonderfully  astonished  when  I  announced 


3o8  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

my  name.  We  had  much  conversation  ;  but  he  cannot  give  up  his  pro- 
fession for  another  more  respectable.  lie  spoke  of  Mr.  YVhitefield  with 
much  affection,  and  with  admiration  of  his  talents.  He  promised  to  come 
some  other  time,  when  he  had  more  leisure  for  conversation.  Poor  fellow  ! 
I  think  he  is  not  far  from  the  kingdom.' 

Much  has  been  said  of  Whitefield's  efforts  for  his  orphan- 
house,  and  of  the  success  with  which  he  pleaded  its  claims ; 
but  let  it  not  be  thought  that  he  never  sent  the  collection-box 
round  for  any  other  object.  He  would  help  others  when  debt 
and  anxiety  pressed  upon  himself,  the  money  which  would 
have  freed  him  being  cheerfully  sent  to  meet  other  wants.  He 
often  preached  for  the  French  Protestants  in  Prussia,  who 
had  suffered  much  at  the  hands  of  the  Russians,  and  collected 
as  much  as  fifteen  hundred  pounds  for  them  (one  pound  then 
was  equal  to  four  now).  Many  of  the  nobility  attended  his 
chapels  while  he  was  making  this  effort,  and  the  King  of 
Prussia  sent  him  his  thanks  for  it.  At  another  time  he 
collected  in  his  chapels,  on  one  day,  five  hundred  and  sixty 
pounds,  for  '  the  relief  of  the  German  Protestants  and  the 
sufferers  by  fire  at  Boston.'  But  on  this  occasion  he  resorted 
to  a  strange  stratagem .  At  the  close  of  the  sermon,  he  said  : 
'  We  will  sing  a  hymn,  during  which  those  who  do  not  choose 
to  give  their  mite  on  this  awful  occasion  may  sneak  off.'  Not 
one  stirred  ;  he  then  ordered  the  doors  to  be  closed,  and, 
descending  from  the  pulpit,  held  the  plate  himself !  *  It  was 
a  common  thing  to  make  a  collection  for  the  orphan  hospital 
in  Edinburgh,  when  he  visited  Scotland.  He  also  made  a 
levy  on  the  generosity  of  the  Glasgow  people,  and  taught  them 
practical  charity,  as  he  did  all   who  heard  him.     Franklin's 

1  We  are  not  quite  sure  that  this  anecdote  is  authentic  ;  it  is  inserted 
here  upon  the  authority  of '  Sketches  of  the  Life  and  Labours  of  the  Rev. 
George  YVhitefield,'  issued  by  the  Committee  of  the  General  Assembly  of 
the  Free  Church  of  Scotland. 


STONED  IN  DUBLIN  309 

story  of  the  man  who  borrowed  money  for  the  collection  at 
Philadelphia  is  matched  by  a  story  of  Whitefield's  power  in 
this  Scotch  city.  An  officer,  who  knew  Whitefield's  influence, 
laid  a  wager  with  another  who  was  going  to  hear  him  with 
a  prejudiced  mind,  that  he  would  feel  himself  obliged  to 
give  something,  notwithstanding  his  dislike.  The  wager  was 
accepted ;  and  the  challenged  man  went  to  church  with 
empty  pockets.  But  Whitefield  so  moved  his  heart  that  he 
was  fain  to  borrow  from  his  neighbour,  and  his  bet  was  lost. 
In  May,  1757,  Whitefield  was  the  most  highly  honoured 
man  in  Edinburgh,  the  next  month  he  was  mobbed  and 
stoned  in  Dublin.  Several  Scotch  towns  had  previously  made 
him  a  freeman ;  and  this  year  he  received  the  marked  respect 
of  the  ministers  of  the  General  Assembly  and  of  the  Lord  High 
Commissioner.  From  the  aristocracy  of  Scotland  he  went  to 
the  Ormond  and  Liberty  Boys  of  Ireland,  and  at  their  hands 
received  the  last  violence  to  which  he  was  to  be  subjected. 
It  was  their  custom  to  meet  and  fight  on  Oxmanton  Green,  on 
Sunday,  but  when  Whitefield  had  appeared  once  on  the  ground, 
and  then  came  a  second  time,  they  turned  their  strength 
against  him,  after  he  had  preached  to  a  vast  multitude,  and 
stoned  him  as,  all  alone,  he  was  returning  home.  He  writes  to 
a  friend  that  every  step  he  took  a  fresh  stone  struck  him,  and 
made  him  reel  backwards  and  forwards,  till  he  '  was  almost 
breathless,  and  all  over  a  gore  of  blood.'  He  thought  he 
should  have  gone  off  '  in  this  bloody  triumph  to  the  immediate 
presence  of  his  Master.'  Hatless,  wounded,  and  bleeding,  he 
found  a  brief  shelter  in  a  minister's  house,  and  some  friends 
bringing  him  a  coach,  he  rode  '  in  gospel  triumph  through  the 
oaths,  curses,  and  imprecations  of  whole  streets  of  Papists,' 
and  without  further  injury  reached  Wesley's  room.  This 
assault,  of  which  he  bore  the  scar  all  his  life,  was  entirely 
owing  to  his   having   exhorted  all   ranks  to   be  faithful  to  the 


n 


3io  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  to  King  George,  not  to  his  having 
spoken  against  Popery. 

To  escape  the  danger  of  open-air  preaching  was  to  encounter 
the  danger  of  ministering  in  two  large  chapels  all  the  winter 
through;  and  in  the  winter  1757-58  Whitefield  suffered  so 
much  that  he  was  put  upon  '  the  short  allowance,'  as  he  called 
it,  of  preaching  but  once  a  day,  and  thrice  on  a  Sunday.  With 
so  little  to  do,  he  began  to  examine  things  that  were  near  him  ; 
and  finding  that  round  his  chapel  there  was  a  most  beautiful 
spot  of  ground,  he  designed  a  plan  for  building  twelve  alms- 
houses upon  it.  Some  other  '  good  folks  '  agreed  with  him, 
and  soon  one  hundred  pounds  of  the  necessary  four  hundred 
were  in  his  hand.  The  houses  were  to  be  for  godly  widows, 
who  were  to  have  half  a  crown  a  week  from  the  sacrament 
money.  The  cost  of  building  them  was  defrayed  by  private 
subscriptions,  the  public  being  kept  in  ignorance  of  the 
scheme  until  the  whole  sum  was  promised.  In  June,  1758, 
the  houses  received  their  first  inmates,  and  stood  as  '  a  monu- 
ment that  the  Methodists  were  not  against  good  works.' 

The  summer  travels  of  1758  were  begun  at  Gloucester,  and 
continued  into  Wales  ;  and  it  is  grievous  to  mark  the  increasing- 
difficulties  under  which  they  were  undertaken.  No  trifle  ever 
hindered  this  willing  traveller,  but,  although  he  is  only  forty- 
four,  he  is  compelled  to  say  to  a  friend  : — 

'  This  tabernacle  makes  me  to  groan.  The  one-horse  chaise  will  not  do 
for  me  ;  as  it  will  not  quarter,  I  am  shaken  to  pieces.  Driving  likewise 
wearies  me,  and  prevents  my  reading  ;  and  if  the  road  be  bad  my  servant 
that  rides  the  fore-horse  is  dirtied  exceedingly.     I  have  therefore  sent  to 

Mr.  S 's  about  the  postchaise,  and  desired  him  to  beg  the  favour  of  you, 

my  dear  sir,  to  look  at  it,  and  let  me  know  your  thoughts.    This  is  giving 
you  trouble,  but  you  are  my  friend.' 

Possibly  the  weakness  of  the  body  added  to  the  fervour  of  the 
spirit,  and  increased  the  interest  of  the  congregations. 


mth  visit — he      / 
■ked   way,    by     \ 


ACTORS 

When  he  visited  Scotland  in   1759 — his  elevei 
exhibited    his  disinterestedness   in  a  very  marked 
refusing,  either  for  himself  personally  or  for  his  orphan-house, 
the  estate,  both  money  and  lands,  valued  at  seven  thousand 
pounds,  of  a  Miss  Hunter,  which  she  offered  him. 

From  the  account  already  given  of  the  kindly  feeling  of 
Shuter,  the  comedian,  for  Whitefield,  and  of  the  visits  paid  by 
the  chief  of  actors  to  the  Tabernacle  and  Tottenham  Court 
Chapel,  it  might  be  supposed  that  actors  were  among  White- 
field's  friends  ;  that  is  to  say,  that  they  admired  his  talents, 
and  respected  his  character  and  his  calling,  while  refusing  to 
yield  to  his  warnings  and  entreaties  to  seek  another  profession  ; 
but  such  was  not  the  case.  To  be  inferior  to  him  in  histrionic 
talent  would  not  calm  the  fretful  temper  which  most  of  them 
had.  Garrick  would  doubtless  have  been  better  pleased  had 
the  public  called  Whitefield  the  Garrick  of  the  pulpit,  and  not 
himself  '  the  Whitefield  of  the  stage.'  He  could  not  always 
disguise  his  pleasure  when  another  actor  was  burlesqued  and 
mimicked,  and  his  feelings  would  hardly  be  more  generous 
towards  a  Methodist  preacher.  Dr.  Johnson,  guided  no  doubt 
by  what  he  saw  and  knew  of  the  actors  of  his  day,  never  made 
a  truer  remark  than  when  he  observed,  that  the  stage  made 
'  almost  every  other  man,  for  whatever  reason,  contemptuous, 
insolent,  petulant,  selfish,  and  brutal.'  To  these  qualities  he 
might  have  added — for  a  description  of  the  staff  of  actors  who 
are  the  most  brilliant  in  the  history  of  the  English  stage — 
envious,  faithless,  deceptive.  Foote  first  of  all  entertained 
the  play-house  goers  by  imitating  Whitefield's  appearance  and 
manner  of  speaking.  Finding  himself  so  successful,  he  next 
wrote  a  comedy,  called  the  '  Minor,'  which  affected  to  kill 
Methodism  by  ridicule,  and  took  the  chief  part  in  it  himself. 
There  is  not  one  happy  line  in  it,  and  it  is  as  destitute  of  wit 
as  of  piety.     There  was  something  in  the  impudence  of  the 


312  GEORGE  WHITE  FIELD 

opening  sentence  worthy  of  both  author  and  performer : 
'  What  think  you  of  one  of  those  itinerant  field-orators,  who, 
though  at  declared  enmity  with  common  sense,  have  the 
address  to  poison  the  principles  and,  at  the  same  time,  pick 
the  pockets,  of  half  our  industrious  fellow-subjects  ?  '  ' 

Whitefield,  on  hearing  of  the  merriment  of  the  town  at  his 
expense,  simply  said,  '  All  hail  such  contempt ! '  But  his 
friends  were  not  content  to  remain  inactive.  The  Rev.  Mr. 
Madan  wrote  to  Garrick  on  the  intended  representation  of  the 
play  at  Drury  Lane.  Lady  Huntingdon  waited  upon  the 
Lord  Chamberlain,  the  Duke  of  Devonshire,  and  applied  for 
its  suppression  altogether — a  most  proper  request,  apart  from 
anything  that  was  levelled  against  Methodists ;  for  its  impurity 
condemned  it.  Yet  his  lordship  could  only  assure  her  that 
had  the  evil  tendency  of  the  play  been  found  out  before  it  was 
licensed,  licence  would  have  been  refused ;  as  it  was,  he  could 
do  nothing  immediately.  The  Countess  next  appealed  to 
Garrick,  who  promised  to  use  his  influence  in  excluding  it  for 
the  present,  and  added  '  that  had  he  been  aware  of  the  offence 
that  it  was  calculated  to  give,  it  should  never  have  appeared 
with  his  concurrence.'  Nevertheless  the  offence  was  con- 
tinued, yet  not  to  the  detriment  of  Whitefield's  ministry,  which 
drew  crowds  of  the  aristocracy.  Foote  showed  his  brutality 
by  bringing  the  play  upon  the  stage  at  Edinburgh  within  two 
months  after  Whitefield's  death  ;  but  its  indecency,  combined 
with  the  heartlessness  of  caricaturing  a  man  who  had  never 
entered  the  city  but  to  bless  it,  and  who  was  just  dead,  emptied 
the  theatre  after  the  first  night,   and    made    many   a   pulpit 

1  The  favourite  dish  of  the  pocket-picking  Mr.  Squintum,  as  Foote, 
alluding  to  Whitefield's  defect,  called  the  greatest  of  the  field-orators,  was 
a  cow-heel.  He  would  cheerfully  say,  as  he  sat  down  to  it,  '  How  surprised 
would  the  world  be,  if  they  were  to  peep  upon  Dr.  Squintum,  and  see 
a  cow-heel  only  upon  his  table.' 


DELIGHTS  IN  OPEN-AIR  WORK  313 

thunder  out  rebukes.  Edinburgh  had  more  self-respect  than 
London. 

Whitefield  was  this  same  year  brought  into  contact  with  the 
notorious  Earl  Eerrers,  cousin  of  Lady  Huntingdon.  He  was 
tried  by  his  peers  for  the  murder  of  his  steward,  Mr.  Johnson. 
His  execution  was  delayed  from  April  16th  to  May  5th,  an 
interval  which  he  spent  in  careless  self-indulgence,  and  in  indif- 
ference to  all  the  religious  solicitude  shown  in  his  behalf. 
Lady  Huntingdon  restrained  him  a  little,  and  kept  him  from 
appearing  utterly  shameless.  He  twice  received  Whitefield 
very  politely  ;  but  his  heart  was  unmoved.  His  last  words 
before  the  bolt  was  drawn  were :  '  O  God,  forgive  me  all  my 
errors  ;  pardon  all  my  sins.' 

An  unusually  sad  and  weary  tone  is  perceptible  in  nearly  all 
Whitefield's  letters  of  1761,  nor  did  he  write  many.  For 
weeks  he  did  not  preach  a  single  sermon  ;  the  ability  to-  say 
but  a  few  words  was  gratefully  received  as  a  little  reviving  in 
his  bondage.  He  was  beginning  to  know  what  nervous  dis- 
orders are,  and  was  thankful  when  his  friends  were  prudent, 
and  did  not  press  him  to  preach  much.  His  prayer  was  for 
resignation,  so  long  as  the  Lord  Jesus  enforced  silence  upon 
him.  As  to  the  cause  of  his  weakness  and  sickness,  he 
thought  it  was  the  loss  of  his  usual  voyages,  which  certainly 
had  always  been  an  acceptable  cessation  of  the  toils  of  preach- 
ing, if  they  often  brought  the  quieter  and  less  exhausting  toils 
of  writing.  Thus  he  proceeded  slowly  from  place  to  place, 
getting  as  far  north  as  Edinburgh,  where  he  had  to  say,  '  Little, 
very  little,  can  be  expected  from  a  dying  man.'  It  was  his  old 
enjoyment,  field-preaching,  which  revived  him  again.  The 
open  sky  above  his  head,  the  expansive  landscape,  and  the 
sight  and  sound  of  all  nature's  charms,  refreshed  him,  as  an 
imprisoned  Indian  would  live  a  new  life  at  the  sight  and  touch 
of   the    prairie.     '  How  gladly   would  I   bid  adieu   to   ceiled 


314  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

houses  and  vaulted  roofs  ! '  he  exclaimed  when  he  resumed  his 
open-air  work.  Yet  his  revival  was  only  temporary  ;  winter 
prostrated  him  as  much  as  ever,  and  he  was  glad  to  make 
arrangements  for  sailing  to  America  the  following  summer. 
The  condition  and  wants  of  Bethesda,  and  his  own  feeble 
health,  seemed  to  tell  him  that  he  must  attempt  another 
voyage.  He  accordingly  persuaded  his  friends,  Mr.  Robert 
Keen,  a  woollen-draper  in  the  Minories,  and  Mr.  Hardy,  to 
accept  the  office  of  trustees  to  the  two  London  chapels  and  all 
his  other  concerns  in  England.  He  told  them  that  their  com- 
pliance with  his  request  would  relieve  him  of  a  ponderous  load 
which  oppressed  him  much.  When  they  accepted  the  respon- 
sibility, he  entreated  Mr.  Keen  not  to  consult  him  about  any- 
thing, unless  absolutely  necessary ;  for,  he  added,  '  the  Lord, 
I  trust  and  believe,  will  give  you  a  right  judgment  in  all 
things.'  In  this  confidence  he  was  not  mistaken  ;  his  friends 
proved  true  to  him  and  to  the  cause  which  he  served.  But 
before  we  see  him  on  board  ship  at  Greenock,  where  he  em- 
barked for  his  eleventh  voyage,  there  is  one  assailant  to  be 
answered  (there  was  a  constant  fusillade  of  pamphlets  kept  up 
against  him),  and  a  faithful  labourer  to  be  laid  in  his  grave. 

The  assailant  was  Dr.  Warburton,  who  since  1759  had  filled 
the  place  of  good  Bishop  Benson,  as  Bishop  of  Gloucester. 
Where  Whitefield  had  found  kindness  and  help  he  was  now  to 
encounter  fierce  and  uncompromising  hostility.  Warburton 
was  totally  opposed  to  the  doctrines  of  Methodism,  and  the 
success  they  had  gained  in  the  land  was  a  sufficient  reason  for 
his  attempting  to  demolish  them.  Even  before  the  death  of 
the  charitable  Doddridge,  he  showed  his  dislike  of  enthusiasm 
in  a  characteristic  way  by  rating  Lady  Huntingdon  and 
Doddridge  in  Lady  Huntingdon's  house,  where  he  was  paying 
the  dying  man  a  farewell  visit  before  his  departure  for  Lisbon. 
Neither  the  politeness  due  from  guest  to  hostess,  nor  the  con- 


A  SSA I  LED  BY  BISHOP  WA  RB  UR  TON  3 1 5 

sideration  due  to  a  feeble  friend,  could  restrain  his  vehement 
temper.  On  another  occasion  he  provoked  a  skirmish  at 
Prior  Park — afterwards  his  own  residence — where  he  met  Dr. 
Hartley,  Dr.  Oliver,  Mr.  Allen,  and  Lady  Huntingdon.  Dr. 
Hartley  having  spoken  in  laudatory  terms  of  Whitefield's 
abilities,  and  respectfully  of  his  doctrines,  Warburton  remarked, 
'Of  his  oratorical  powers  and  their  astonishing  influence  on 
the  minds  of  thousands,  there  can  be  no  doubt  :  they  are  of 
a  high  order ;  but  with  respect  to  his  doctrines,  I  consider 
them  pernicious  and  false.'  The  conversation  grew  into  a 
debate,  and  the  debate  became  so  warm  that  Warburton, 
pressed  by  argument  and  sorely  ruffled  in  temper,  hastily  left 
the  room,  no  doubt  leaving  as  many  marks  as  he  carried  with 
him.  He  was  now  to  strike  a  heavier  and  more  effective  blow 
at  '  the  false  and  pernicious  doctrines,'  which  were  spreading 
and  triumphing  on  every  hand. 

The  work  he  wrote  was  called  a  vindication  of  the  office  and 
operations  of  the  Holy  Spirit  from  the  insults  of  infidelity  and 
the  abuses  of  fanaticism.  As  by  Bishop  Gibson,  at  whose 
hands  Warburton  had  received  ordination  to  the  priest's  office, 
so  by  Warburton,  the  fanatics  were  more  warmly  assailed  than 
the  infidels.  Indeed,  the  word  used  by  Warburton  is  less 
courteous  than  Gibson's  ;  with  Gibson  the  Methodists  were 
'enthusiasts';  with  Warburton  they  are  'fanatics.'  Nay, 
fanatics  on  the  title-page  is  changed  into  '  fools '  in  the  pre- 
face ;  it  was  more  than  he  could  do  to  treat  a  Methodist  with 
fairness  and  charity. 

His  book  might  have  done  one  great  service  to  the  Church 
had  it  been  devoted  only  to  the  discussion  of  a  question 
which  he  introduces  as  but  a  stepping-stone  to  his  conclusions 
against  the  infidels  and  the  fanatics,  namely,  the  inspiration 
of  Holy  Scripture.  His  sober,  thoughtful  view  of  that  great 
subject  might  have  saved  Christianity  from  many  a  reproach 


316  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

had  it  been  commonly  adopted  by  the  believers  of  our  faith. 
But  the  conclusion  he  wanted  to  reach  was  something  subver- 
sive of  the  Methodistical  belief  concerning  the  operations  of 
the  Holy  Ghost  upon  the  heart  of  man  ;  substantially  the 
same  view  which  Bishop  Gibson  had  advanced  against 
'  enthusiasm,'  but  supported  by  a  greater  show  of  reasoning. 
To  these  views  Whitefield  wrote  an  answer,  in  the  form  of  a 
letter  to  a  friend,  which  he  called  '  Observations  on  some  fatal 
mistakes  in  a  book  lately  published,  and  entitled,  &c.'  He 
fairly  and  exactly  summed  up  the  bishop's  reasoning  by  saying 
that,  in  effect,  it  robbed  the  Church  of  its  promised  Comforter, 
and  thereby  left  us  without  any  supernatural  influence  or 
Divine  operations  whatsoever.  Left  in  this  forlorn  state, 
and  yet  told  by  the  bishop  that  charity  is  the  one  thing 
which  is  to  abide  in  the  Church  for  ever,  Whitefield  asks  with 
pertinence  and  force  :  '  Now,  can  human  reason,  with  all  its 
heights  ;  can  calm  philosophy,  with  all  its  depths ;  or  moral 
suasion,  with  all  its  insinuating  arts,  so  much  as  pretend  to 
kindle,  much  less  to  maintain  and  blow  up  into  a  settled, 
habitual  flame  of  holy  fire,  such  a  spark  as  this  in  the  human 
heart  ?  '  Upon  our  ability  to  do  without  the  Holy  Ghost  he 
remarked  with  a  pungency  which  Warburton  must  have  felt 
keenly :  '  Supposing  matters  to  be  as  this  writer  represents 
them,  I  do  not  see  what  great  need  we  have  of  any  established 
rule  at  all,  at  least  in  respect  to  practice,  since  corrupt  nature 
is  abundantly  sufficient  of  itself  to  help  us  to  persevere  in  a 
religion  attended  with  ease  and  honour.  And  I  verily  believe 
that  the  Deists  throw  aside  this  rule  of  faith  entirely,  not 
barely  on  account  of  a  deficiency  in  argument  to  support  its 
authenticity,  but  because  they  daily  see  so  many  who  profess 
to  hold  this  established,  self-denying  rule  of  faith  with  their 
lips,  persevering  all  their  lives  long  in  nothing  else  but  an 
endless  and  insatiable  pursuit  after  worldly  ease  and  honour.' 


( /  BELIE  VE  IN  THE  HOL  V  GHOST '  317 

He  proceeds  :  '  The  Scriptures  are  so  far  from  encouraging  us 
to  plead  for  a  diminution  of  Divine  influence  in  these  last 
days  of  the  gospel,  because  an  external  rule  of  faith  is  thereby 
established,  that,  on  the  contrary,  we  are  encouraged  by  this 
very  established  rule  to  expect,  hope,  long,  and  pray  for  larger 
and  more  extensive  showers  of  Divine  influence  than  any 
former  age  hath  ever  yet  experienced.' 

It  is  not  without  interest  to  observe  that  Whitefield's  first 
and  last  discussion  was  with  a  bishop,  and  upon  the  doctrine 
of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Years  of  labour  had  only  strengthened 
his  persuasion  that  the  Comforter  still  abides  personally  with 
believers,  and  that  without  His  action  upon  the  heart  no  man 
can  be  led  into  the  new  life  in  Christ  Jesus. 

Before  Whitefield  sails  we  must  notice  the  death  of  his 
friend  Grimshaw,  which  occurred  on  April  7,  1763.  Probably 
they  met  at  Leeds,  as  Whitefield  travelled  north  in  March,  for 
he  seldom  got  so  near  Havvorth  without  affording  himself  the 
pleasure  of  preaching  there.  No  such  startling  and  appalling, 
as  well  as  happy,  effects  had  ever  attended  his  ministry  as  were 
felt  there.  It  was  as  if  the  very  voice  of  God  were  speaking, 
when  once  he  cried  out  to  a  man  who  had  seated  himself  on 
the  tower  of  the  church  :  '  Man,  I  have  a  word  for  thee  ; '  that 
man  was  afterwards  found  among  Grimshaw's  converts.  More 
solemn  was  the  effect  of  his  words  on  another  occasion.  He 
was  standing  on  the  scaffold  which  used  to  be  erected  for 
these  outside  gatherings  ;  worship  had  been  offered  by  the 
congregation  ;  the  time  for  the  sermon  had  come  ;  all  eyes  were 
turned  upon  him  and  all  ears  waiting  for  his  first  words,  when 
he  was  seen  to  spend  a  few  moments  in  silent  prayer.  Silently 
they  waited ;  then  looking  round  upon  them,  he  lifted  up  his 
hands  and  earnestly  invoked  the  presence  and  working  of  the 
Holy  Ghost.  A  little  while  longer,  and  he  announced  with 
solemn  voice  and  manner  the  solemn  text  :  'It  is  appointed 


318  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

unto  men  once  to  die,  but  after  this  the  judgment.'  He 
paused,  and  while  he  did  so  '  a  wild  shriek  of  terror  arose  from 
amidst  the  mass.'  Some  confusion  followed,  but  Whitefield 
exhorted  the  people  to  remain  still,  while  Grimshaw  pressed 
into  the  crowd  to  see  what  had  happened.  Hastening  back 
in  a  few  minutes,  he  said  as  he  approached  the  scaffold  : 
'  Brother  Whitefield,  you  stand  amongst  the  dead  and  the 
dying ;  an  immortal  soul  has  been  called  into  eternity  ;  the 
destroying  angel  is  passing  over  the  congregation ;  cry  aloud 
and  spare  not  ! '  The  people  were  then  told  that  one  of  their 
number  had  died.  A  second  time  the  text  was  announced  : 
'  It  is  appointed  unto  men  once  to  die.'  Again,  from  the  spot 
where  Lady  Huntingdon  and  Lady  Margaret  Ingham  were 
standing,  arose  a  second  shriek  ;  and  a  shudder  of  awe  ran 
through  every  heart  when  it  was  known  that  a  second  person 
had  died.  Not  overcome  by  the  terror  of  the  scene,  but 
strengthened  by  the  secret  Helper  whose  grace  he  had  implored, 
Whitefield  commenced  again,  and  proceeded,  '  in  a  strain  of 
tremendous  eloquence,'  to  warn  the  impenitent  of  their  perilous 
position.  Fear  and  eager  interest  were  in  all  hearts  as  the 
silent,  motionless  congregation  listened  to  his  word. 

Such  preaching  as  this  might  lead  to  the  opinion  that 
Whitefield  was  always  either  solemn  or  vehement ;  but  really 
no  one  could  have  tried  more  ways  than  he  ;  and  faithful  as 
he  was,  he  was  not  always  faithful  enough  for  the  stern  preacher 
of  the  moors.  It  was  common  for  him  to  expose  the  mistakes 
and  pretensions  of  professors  of  religion,  and  getting  on  that 
topic  before  Grimshaw's  congregation,  it  occurred  to  him  that 
his  remarks  could  hardly  be  appropriate  to  them  ;  he  therefore 
proceeded  to  say  that  as  they  had  long  enjoyed  the  ministry 
of  a  faithful  pastor,  they  must  surely  be  a  sincerely  godly  people, 
when  Grimshaw  interrupted  him,  and  cried  out,  '  Oh,  sir,  for 
God's  sake  do  not  speak  so ;  I  pray  you  do  not  flatter  them  ; 


DEA  TH  OF  GRIM  S HA  W  319 

I  fear  the  greater  part  of  them  are  going  to  hell  with  their  eyes 
open  ! ' 

If  Grimshaw  was  not  mistaken  in  this  judgment,  which  was 
probably  spoken  early  in  his  ministry,  a  great  change  must 
have  passed  over  his  congregation  through  his  labours.  He 
afterwards  assured  Romaine  that  not  fewer  than  twelve  hundred 
people  were  in  communion  with  him ;  most  of  whom,  in  the 
judgment  of  charity,  he  could  not  but  believe  to  be  one  with 
Christ.  The  church  could  not  hold  the  number  who  some- 
times came  to  communicate,  and  one  congregation  would  with- 
draw for  another  to  fill  its  place.  In  one  instance,  when 
Whitefield  was  present,  thirty-five  bottles  of  wine  were  used 
in  the  ordinance. 

The  complaint  which  carried  Grimshaw  off  was  putrid  fever, 
caught  by  him  in  visiting  his  flock,  among  whom  it  was  work- 
ing most  fatally.  For  one-and-twenty  years  had  he  proved 
himself  a  good  minister ;  not  one  soul  was  there  in  all  the 
district  of  his  travels  with  whose  spiritual  condition  he  was 
unacquainted ;  and  after  he  died  no  parishioner  could  hear 
his  name  without  tears. 

It  may  have  been  Grimshaw  that  Whitefield  was  specially 
thinking  of  when  he  said,  '  Others  can  die,  but  I  cannot.' 
Weak  and  weary  he  preached  in  Scotland  several  times. 
Ready  to  fall,  as  it  seemed,  yet  able  to  do  something,  he 
sailed  for  America  the  sixth  time  on  June  4,  1763,  and  after  a 
twelve  week's  voyage  landed  in  Virginia.  The  war  between 
England  and  France  had  kept  him  absent  from  America  eight 
years. 

•  Jesus,'  he  says,  '  hath  made  the  ship  a  Bethel,  and  I  enjoyed  that  quiet- 
ness which  I  have  in  vain  sought  after  for  some  years  on  shore.  Not  an 
oath  to  be  heard,  even  in  the  greatest  hurry.  All  hath  been  harmony  and 
love.  But  my  breath  is  short,  and  I  have  little  hopes  since  my  last  relapse 
of  much  turther  public  usefulness.     A  few  exertions,  like  the  last  struggles 


320  GEORGE   WHITEEIELD 

of  a  dying  man,  or  glimmering  flashes  of  a  taper  just  burning  out,  is  all  that 
can  be  expected  from  me.  But,  blessed  be  God,  the  taper  will  be  lighted 
up  again  in  heaven.' 

From  Virginia  he  proceeded  northwards  to  Philadelphia, 
New  York,  and  Boston  ;  and  was  so  much  strengthened  by 
the  cold  as  to  be  able  to  preach  thrice  a  week.  There  was 
such  a  flocking  of  all  ranks  in  New  York  to  his  preaching  as 
he  had  never  seen  there  before.  It  was  in  this  city  that  he 
gained  one  of  his  greatest  oratorical  conquests  ;  and  a  com- 
parison of  the  anecdote  with  that  which  relates  Chesterfield's 
excitement  will  serve  to  show  his  mastery  over  all  classes  of 
people.  On  this  occasion  he  was  preaching  before  the  seamen 
of  New  York — 

'  when  suddenly,  assuming  a  nautical  tone  and  manner  that  were  irre- 
sistible, he  thus  suddenly  broke  in  with,  "  Well,  my  boys,  we  have  a  clear 
sky,  and  are  making  fine  headway  over  a  smooth  sea,  before  a  light  breeze, 
and  we  shall  soon  lose  sight  of  land.  But  what  means  this  sudden  lowering 
of  the  heavens,  and  that  dark  cloud  rising  from  beneath  the  western  horizon  ? 
Hark  !  don't  you  hear  distant  thunder  ?  Don't  you  see  those  flashes  of 
lightning  ?  There  is  a  storm  gathering  !  every  man  to  his  duty  !  How  the 
waves  arise  and  dash  against  the  ship  !  The  air  is  dark  !  The  tempest 
rages  !  Our  masts  are  gone  !  The  ship  is  on  her  beam  ends  !  What 
next  ? "  ' 

This  appeal  instantly  brought  the  sailors  to  their  feet  with  a 
shout,  '  Take  to  the  long  boat ! ' 

His  power  to  engage  the  attention  of  ship-builders  was  as 
great  as  that  of  exciting  sailors,  one  builder  declaring  that  he 
could  build  a  ship  from  stem  to  stern  every  Sunday  under  the 
sermon  at  the  parish  church,  but  could  not  get  a  plank  down 
when  Whitefield  preached. 

Still,  his  success  was  not  uniform,  only  he  would  have  success 
if  it  could  be  gained.  If  the  fault  were  in  his  own  heart,  he 
would  pray,  while  he  preached,  for  help  from  above.     If  the 


A  SLEEPER  AROUSED  321 

fault  were  in  his  hearers,  he  would  correct  it ;  if  they  were 
thoughtless,  he  would  charge  them  with  it  as  they  sat ;  if  they 
were  stupid  and  uninterested,  he  would  ask  them  whether  he 
were  preaching  to  men  or  to  stones.  Dr.  Young  is  said  to 
have  sat  down  and  wept  when  his  royal  hearers  slept  during 
his  sermon  j  but  Whitefield  would  have  done  something  very 
different — most  likely  what  he  did  to  a  small  American  con- 
gregation on  a  rainy  day.  A  curious  student  from  Princeton 
(New  Jersey)  College  was  present,  and  has  told  the  story.  The 
first  part  of  the  sermon  made  no  impression  upon  the  student, 
and  he  began  to  say  to  himself,  '  This  man  is  not  so  great  a 
wonder  after  all.  His  ideas  are  all  commonplace  and  super- 
ficial— mere  show,  and  not  a  great  deal  even  of  that.'  The 
congregation  seemed  as  uninterested  as  himself,  one  old  man 
who  sat  in  front  of  the  pulpit  having  fallen  sound  asleep ! 
Whitefield  now  stopped  ;  his  face  darkened  with  a  frown ;  and 
changing  his  tone,  he  cried  out,  '  If  I  had  come  to  speak  to 
you  in  my  own  name,  you  might  rest  your  elbows  on  your 
knees,  and  your  heads  upon  your  hands,  and  sleep  ;  and  once 
in  a  while  look  up  and  say,  "What  does  the  babbler  talk  of?  " 
But  I  have  not  come  to  you  in  my  own  name.  No  :  I  come 
to  you  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts  ' — here  he  brought 
his  hand  and  foot  down  with  a  force  that  made  the  building 
ring — '  and  I  must  and  will  be  heard  ! '  The  congregation 
started,  and  the  old  man  awoke.  '  Ay,  ay/  said  Whitefield, 
fixing  his  eyes  on  him,  '  I  have  waked  you  up,  have  I  ?  I 
meant  to  do  it.  I  am  not  come  here  to  preach  to  stocks  and 
stones ;  I  have  come  to  you  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  God  of 
Hosts,  and  I  must,  and  I  will,  have  an  audience.'  There  was 
no  more  sleeping  or  indolence  that  day. 

Other  things  besides  preaching  filled  his  mind  when,  after  a 
long  delay  in  the  north  of  the  colonies,  caused  by  bad  health 
and  the  unsettled  state  of  the  Indians,  he  travelled  to  Bethesda, 

22 


322  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

and  reached  it,  as  he  had  so  often  done  before,  in  time  to 
spend  Christmas  with  the  orphans.     It  had  long  been  his  wish 
to  add  to  the  orphanage  a  college  like  New  Jersey,  for  the 
training  of  gentlemen's  sons  ;  and  now,  along  with  the  pleasure 
which  he  felt  in  seeing  the  peace  and  plenty  of  his  cherished 
retreat,  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  thinking  that  his  second 
project    would    be    accomplished.       He    memorialised     the 
governor,  James  Wright,   Esq.,   setting  forth  in   his  petition 
that  in  addition  to  his  original  plan,  which  he  had  carried  out 
these  many  years  at  great  expense,  he  had  long  wished  to  make 
further  provision  for  the  education  of  persons  of  superior  rank, 
who  might  thus  be  fitted  for  usefulness,  either  in  Church  or 
State  ;  that  he  witnessed  with  pleasure  the  increasing  prosperity 
of  the  province,  but  saw  with  concern  that  many  gentlemen, 
who  would  have  preferred  having  their  sons  educated  nearer 
home,  had  been  obliged  to  send  them  to  the  northern  pro- 
vinces ;  that  a  college  in  Georgia  would  be  a  central  institu- 
tion for  the  whole  of  the  southern  district,  and  might  even 
count  upon  many  youths  being  sent  from  the  British  West 
India  Islands  and  other  parts ;  that  a  considerable  sum   of 
money  was  soon  to  be  laid  out  in  purchasing  a  large  number 
of  Negroes,  for  the  further  cultivation  of  the  orphan-house  and 
other  additional  lands,  and  for  the  future  support  of  '  a  worthy, 
able  president,  professors  and  tutors,  and  other  good  purposes 
intended ' ;    he   therefore    prayed    his    Excellency    and    the 
members  of  his  Majesty's  Council  to  grant  him  in  trust  two 
thousand  acres  of  land  on  the  north  fork  of  Turtle  River,  or 
lands  south  of  the  river  Altamaha.     This  memorial  was  sup- 
ported by  an  earnest  '  Address  of  both  Houses  of  Assembly,' 
which  bore  the  signature  of  James  Habersham  as  president. 
His  Excellency  gave  a  favourable  answer,  and  referred  the 
matter  to  the  home  authorities ;  and  Whitefield  returned  to 
support  it. 


AN  OLD  MAN  AT  FIFTY  323 

Work  and  sickness  had  wrought  a  striking  change  in  his 
appearance  when  he  ended  his  twelfth  voyage.  That  his 
health  must  have  been  grievously  broken  is  evident  from  his 
touching  appeal  to  his  friends  Keen  and  Hardy  :  '  Stand,  my 
friends,'  he  said,  '  and  insist  upon  my  not  being  brought  into 
action  too  soon.  The  poor  old  shattered  barque  hath  not 
been  in  dock  one  week,  for  a  long  while.  I  scarce  know  what 
I  write.  Tender  love  to  all.'  Asthma  had  now  firmly  seated 
itself  in  his  constitution,  and  he  felt  sure  that  he  should  never 
breathe  as  he  would,  till  he  breathed  in  yonder  heaven. 
Wesley  was  painfully  struck  when  he  met  him  towards  the 
close  of  the  year  in  London.  'I  breakfasted,'  he  says  in  his 
journal,  '  with  Mr.  Whitefield,  who  seemed  to  be  an  old,  old 
man,  being  fairly  worn  out  in  his  Master's  service,  though  he 
has  hardly  seen  fifty  years ;  and  yet  it  pleases  God  that  I,  who 
am  now  in  my  sixty-third  year,  find  no  disorder,  no  weakness, 
no  decay,  no  difference  from  what  I  was  at  five-and-twenty, 
only  that  I  have  fewer  teeth  and  more  grey  hairs.'  A  month 
later  Wesley  again  wrote  in  his  journal :  '  Mr.  Whitefield  called 
upon  me.  He  breathes  nothing  but  peace  and  love.  Bigotry 
cannot  stand  before  him,  but  hides  its  head  wherever  he 
comes.' 

The  silver  cord  was  not  even  yet  to  be  loosed,  although  the 
body  appeared  to  be  ready  for  the  grave,  and  the  soul  for 
heaven.  Lady  Huntingdon  was  increasing  the  number  of  her 
chapels.  She  had  one  at  Brighton,  which  was  partly  due  to 
Whitefield's  preaching  under  a  tree  behind  the  White  Lion 
Inn ;  she  had  another  at  Norwich  ;  and  a  third  at  Tunbridge 
Wells  ;  and  when  she  had  got  one  finished  at  Bath,  Whitefield 
must  needs  open  it.  He  went  and  preached  one  of  the  sermons 
on  October  6,  1765.  It  was  a  chapel  in  which  many  of  the 
witty  and  the  learned  were  to  hear  his  expositions  of  truth.  It 
had   also  a  strange  corner,  called  '  Nicodemus's  Corner,'  into 


324  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

which  Lady  Betty  Cobbe,  daughter-in-law  of  the  Archbishop 
of  Dublin,  used  to  smuggle  bishops,  whom  she  had  persuaded 
to  go  and  hear  Whitefield,  but  who  did  not  want  to  be  seen  in 
such  a  place  as  an  unconsecrated  chapel.  The  curtained  seats 
just  inside  the  door  were  both  convenient  and  secret. 

And  how  was  the  plan  for  a  college  at  Bethesda  prospering  ? 
First  of  all  Whitefield  waited  a  long  time,  to  give  the  home 
authorities  the  fullest  opportunities  for  maturing  their  thoughts; 
but  by  delay  they  intended  hindrance,  not  help.  He  therefore 
memorialised  his  Majesty,  praying  that  since  the  colonists  were 
deeply  interested  in  the  scheme,  and  were  impatiently  waiting 
for  information,  something  might  be  done.  Now  came  the 
intricacies  of  'red-tape.'  The  original  memorial  of  Whitefield, 
supported  by  the  '  Address '  of  the  colonial  Houses  of 
Assembly,  was  remitted  to  the  Lords  Commissioners  for 
Trade  and  Plantations,  and  they  sent  it  to  the  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury,  who  effectually  frustrated  its  intention  by  a  bigoted 
demand  that  the  charter  of  the  college,  were  one  granted, 
should  contain  a  clause  making  it  obligatory  to  appoint  none 
but  a  member  of  the  Church  of  England  to  the  office  of  head- 
master. To  this  demand  Whitefield  offered  respectful  but 
uncompromising  opposition.  He  would  have  no  exceptional 
privilege  for  a  Churchman ;  he  would  not  have  the  daily  use 
of  the  liturgy  enjoined ;  he  would  not  have  one  doctrinal 
article  entered  in  the  charter.  His  letter  to  the  archbishop 
stating  and  defending  his  views  is  as  noble  and  catholic  a 
production  as  ever  came  from  his  pen,  while  its  references  to 
himself  and  his  toils  are  as  pathetic  as  they  are  modest.  Why 
did  he  object  to  a  compulsory  clause  respecting  the  master? 
Was  he  opposed  to  the  Church  of  England  ?  By  no  means ; 
the  majority  of  the  wardens  were  sure  to  be  of  that  communion, 
and  their  choice  would  be  sure  to  fall  upon  a  master  like  them- 
selves in  belief;  but  choice  and  compulsion  were  very  different 


RELIGIOUS  LIBERTY  AND  EQUALITY         325 

things.  Did  he  dislike  the  liturgy  ?  No  ;  he  loved  it,  and  had 
injured  himself  by  his  frequent  reading  of  it  in  Tottenham 
Court  Chapel ;  moreover,  it  had  been  read  twice  every  Sunday 
in  the  orphan-house  from  the  day  of  the  first  institution  of  the 
house.  Did  he  disbelieve  the  doctrinal  articles  ?  No  :  on  the 
contrary,  his  acceptance  of  them  was  as  literal  and  honest  as 
man  could  give,  and  he  had  preached  and  upheld  them 
everywhere.  The  whole  question  turned  upon  freedom  or 
compulsion.  As  for  the  orphan-house,  Whitefield  thought 
that  an  institution  to  which  Dr.  Benson  had  made  a  dying 
bequest,  and  for  which  he  had  offered  his  dying  prayers,  had 
some  claim  upon  the  archbishop  also. 

All  that  he  could  say  could  not  move  either  the  archbishop 
or  the  Lord  President;  for  was  not  the  memorialist  a  Methodist? 
and  was  he  not  pleading  for  liberty  of  thought  and  action  ?  In 
reply  to  their  remarks  upon  the  disputed  points,  Whitefield 
said  that,  in  addition  to  all  the  reasons  already  given,  his 
truthfulness  was  at  stake,  and  he  might  not  trifle  with  it. 
From  the  first,  whenever  he  had  been  asked  '  upon  what 
bottom  the  intended  college  was  to  be  founded,'  he  had 
repeatedly  and  readily  replied,  '  Undoubtedly  upon  a  broad 
bottom  ' ;  he  had  even  gone  so  far  as  to  say  from  the  pulpit 
that  it  should  be  upon  'a  broad  bottom  and  no  other,'  and 
how  could  he  now  withdraw  from  his  word  ?  More  than  that, 
most  of  the  money  which  he  had  collected  for  the  orphan- 
house  had  been  given  by  Dissenters,  and  could  he  be  so  basely 
ungrateful  as  to  deny  them  admission  to  the  very  place  which 
their  liberality  had  created  and  sustained  ?  If  it  were  asked 
by  what  warrant  he  had  said  that  the  college  should  stand  only 
on  a  liberal  charter,  he  replied,  '  Because  of  the  known,  long- 
established,  mild,  and  uncoercive  genius  of  the  English  Govern- 
ment ;  because  of  his  Grace's  moderation  towards  Protestant 
Dissenters  ;  because  of  the  unconquerable  attachment  of  the 


326  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Americans  to  toleration  principles ;  because  of  the  avowed 
habitual  feelings  and  sentiments  of  his  own  heart.'  He  wrote 
as  feeling  that  his  very  piety  and  salvation  were  involved  in 
the  position  he  assumed,  and  his  last  words  to  the  archbishop 
are  well  worth  preserving  : — 

'  If  I  know  anything  of  my  own  heart,  I  have  no  ambition  to  be  looked 
upon  at  present,  or  remembered  for  the  future,  as  a  founder  of  a  college  ; 
but  I  would  fain,  may  it  please  your  Grace,  act  the  part  of  an  honest  man, 
a  disinterested  minister  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  a  truly  catholic,  moderate 
presbyter  of  the  Church  of  England.  In  this  way,  and  in  this  only,  can  I 
hope  for  a  continued  heartfelt  enjoyment  of  that  peace  of  God  which  passeth 
all  understanding,  whilst  here  on  earth,  and  be  thereby  prepared  to  stand 
with  humble  boldness  before  the  awful,  impartial  tribunal  of  the  great 
Shepherd  and  Bishop  of  souls  at  the  great  day.' 

~^  His  plan  was  defeated.  In  order  to  uphold  his  reputation 
in  America,  he  published  his  correspondence  with  the  arch- 
bishop, and  sent  it  to  the  Governor  of  Georgia  for  circulation. 
To  come  as  near  his  idea  as  possible,  he  now  proposed  to  add 
a  public  academy  to  the  orphan-house,  and  to  form  a  proper 
trust,  to  act  after  his  decease,  or  even  before,  with  this  proviso, 
that  no  opportunity  should  be  omitted  of  making  a  fresh 
application  for  a  college  charter,  '  upon  a  broad  bottom, 
whenever  those  in  power  might  think  it  for  the  glory  of  God 
and  the  interest  of  their  king  and  country  to  grant  the  same.' 
Thus  his  beloved  Bethesda  would  not  only  be  continued  as  a 
house  of  mercy  for  orphans,  but  be  confirmed  as  a  seat  and 
nursery  of  sound  learning  and  religious  education  to  the  latest 
posterity.  Great  and  worthy  aspirations,  which  were  doomed 
to  disappointment ! 

In  1768  six  students  of  St.  Edmund  Hall,  Oxford,  were 
expelled  from  the  university  for  holding  Methodistical  tenets, 
for  taking  upon  them  to  pray,  read,  and  expound  the  Scrip- 
tures, for  singing  hymns  in  private  houses,  and  for  being 
tradesmen  before  entering  as  students.     But  their  judges  did 


METHODISTS  EXPELLED  FROM  OXFORD      327 

not  escape  public  censure.  It  was  to  be  expected  that  the 
Methodists  would  be  against  them  ;  they  were  also  opposed  by 
men  of  equal  standing  in  the  Church  with  themselves.  White- 
field  could  not  let  the  matter  pass  without  notice  ;  and  he 
wrote  and  published  a  letter  to  Dr.  Durell,  the  vice-chancellor, 
besides  showing  the  students  much  private  sympathy.  As  to 
the  charges,  what  evil  or  crime  worthy  of  expulsion,  he  asked, 
could  there  be  in  having  followed  a  trade  before  entering  the 
university?  and  whoever  heard  of  its  being  accounted  a 
disparagement  to  any  great  public  character  that  he  had  once 
been  a  mechanic  ?  Why,  David  was  a  shepherd,  and  even 
Jesus  of  Nazareth  was  a  carpenter.  But  the  delinquents  had 
been  found  guilty  of  praying.  And  how  could  that,  he 
demanded,  disqualify  them  for  the  private  or  public  discharge 
of  their  ministerial  functions  ?  But  it  was  extempore  prayer 
that  they  had  used.  Extempore  prayer  a  crime  !  It  was  not 
a  crime  to  be  found  in  any  law  book,  neither  had  any  one 
been  called  before  the  bar  of  any  public  court  of  judicature  to 
answer  for  it  for  at  least  a  century.  Expelled  for  extempore 
praying  !  Then  it  was  high  time  there  were  some  expulsions 
for  extempore  swearing,  which  was  surely  the  greater  sin  of  the 
two.  But  these  men  sang  hymns.  Yes,  he  replied,  and  so 
did  David ;  and  this  very  exercise  of  praise  are  we  taught  by 
St.  Paul  to  cultivate.  Praise  !  Well,  Catholic  students  might 
sing ;  then  why  not  Protestants  ?  Ought  Protestants  to  be 
less  devout  than  Papists  ?  And  if  the  Duke  of  Cumberland 
allowed  his  pious  soldiers  to  sing,  why  should  the  Vice- 
Chancellor  of  a  University  forbid  his  pious  students  ?  Or  was 
there  more  harm  in  hearing  a  psalm-tune  than  in  listening  to 
the  noise  of  box  and  dice,  which  was  not  an  unknown  sound 
even  at  Oxford  ? 

Thus  far  his  polemics.     We  must  now  follow  him  to  other 
engagements.     As  if  with  an  expectation  of  soon  dying,  he  now 


328  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

began  to  collect  his  numerous  letters  ;  and  to  them  we  are 
indebted,  along  with  his  journals,  for  the  best  story  of  his  life. 
He  felt  that  another  voyage  to  America,  whither  he  must  go  again 
on  account  of  Bethesda's  affairs,  would  probably  be  the  last ; 
and  he  begged  his  friends  Keen  and  Hardy  to  let  him  have 
his  papers  and  letters,  that  he  might  revise  and  dispose  of  them 
in  a  proper  manner. 

It  was  in  June  and  July,  1768,  that  he  paid  his  fourteenth 
and  last  visit  to  Edinburgh,  always  a  dear  city  to  him.  He 
thanked  God  for  ordering  his  steps  thither.  The  congrega- 
tions in  the  orphan-house  park  were  as  large  and  attentive  as 
those  which  he  addressed  when  he  was  called  '  a  godly  youth ' 
by  his  friends,  and  a  '  minister  of  the  devil '  by  his  enemies. 
Great  was  their  affection  for  him,  and  his  only  danger  was  that 
of  '  being  hugged  to  death  ; '  for  there  were  friends  of  twenty- 
seven  years'  standing,  and  spiritual  children  of  the  same  age, 
who  remembered  the  days  of  old.  They  were  seeking  after 
their  first  love ;  and  the  Spirit  of  God  seemed  to  be  moving 
amongst  them.  He  often  got  into  the  open  air  upon  what  he 
was  beginning  fondly  to  call  his  '  throne ' ;  and  indeed  he  was 
a  king  of  men  when  there.  '  O  to  die  there  ! '  he  exclaimed  ; 
then  checking  himself,  he  added,  '  Too  great,  too  great  an 
honour  to  be  expected  ! '  No  doubt  the  parting  was  as  painful 
as  any  he  had  ever  known ;  and  he  was  wont  to  call  parting 
days  '  execution  days.' 

Soon  after  his  return  to  London,  Mrs.  Whitefield  was  seized 
with  an  'inflammatory  fever,'  and  died  on  August  9,  1768. 
He  preached  her  funeral  sermon  from  Romans  viii.  20,  '  For 
the  creature  was  made  subject  to  vanity,  not  willingly,  but  by 
reason  of  Him  who  hath  subjected  the  same  in  hope.' 
Speaking  of  her  fortitude,   he  observed  : — 

'  Do  you  remember  my  preaching  in  those  fields  by  the  old  stump  of  a 
tree?   The  multitude  was  great,  and  many  were  disposed  to  be  riotous.     A 


DEATH  OF  HIS    WIFE  329 

first  I  addressed  them  firmly  ;  but  when  a  desperate  gang  drew  near,  with 
the  most  ferocious  and  horrid  imprecations  and  menaces,  my  courage  began 
to  fail.  My  wife  was  then  standing  behind  me,  as  I  stood  on  the  table.  I 
think  I  hear  her  now.  She  pulled  my  gown,  and,  looking  up,  said, 
"George,  play  the  man  for  your  God."  My  confidence  returned.  I  spoke 
to  the  multitude  with  boldness  and  affection.  They  became  still,  and 
many  were  deeply  affected/ 

He  afterwards  called  her  death  an  'unexpected  breach,' and 
said  that  he  felt  the  loss  of  his  '  right  hand '  daily. 

He  might  quickly  have  followed  his  wife  to  the  grave,  for 
within  a  month  of  her  death  he  burst  a  vein  by  hard  riding  and 
frequent  preaching.  Rest  and  quietness  were  enjoined  upon 
him  until  the  flux  was  quite  stopped.  The  fact  is,  he  had  been 
in  Wales,  and  it  was  not  easy  to  keep  himself  within  bounds 
among  the  fiery,  rapturous  Welsh.  Moreover,  he  had  been 
attending  a  significant  ceremony — the  opening  of  a  college  for 
the  education  of  godly  young  men  who  aspired  to  be  ministers. 
The  Countess  of  Huntingdon  had  for  some  time  purposed 
founding  such  an  institution  ;  and  on  the  anniversary  of  her 
birthday,  August  24,  1768,  Trevecca  House,  in  the  parish  of 
Talgarth,  South  Wales,  was  dedicated  by  her  to  a  new  purpose, 
and  was  afterwards  known  as  Trevecca  College.  Whitefield 
opened  both  the  college  and  the  chapel  attached  to  it ;  and  on 
the  following  Sunday,  he  preached  in  the  court  before  the 
college,  to  a  congregation  of  some  thousands.  The  college 
was  removed  to  Cheshunt,  Herts,  August   24,  1792. 

The  winter  of  1768-69  was  spent  by  Whitefield  in  London ; 
it  was  the  last  but  one  he  lived  to  see.  He  was  well  enough 
to  preach  frequently;  it  was  always  with  the  same  power  of  the 
Spirit ;  and  as  we  shall  not  again  find  him  among  his  London 
friends,  it  may  be  best  now  to  notice  some  of  his  habits  and 
characteristics  which  have  not  yet  been  mentioned.  We 
know  how  neat  and  punctual  he  was  in  his  younger  days,  and 
he  was  not  different  as  an  old  man.      It  was  a  great  fault  for 


330  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

his  meals  to  be  but  a  few  minutes  late ;  and  he  would  suffer 
no  sitting  up  after  ten  o'clock  at  night,  and  no  lying  in  bed 
after  four  in  the  morning.  He  would  rise  up  abruptly  in  the 
midst  of  a  conversation  at  ten  at  night,  and  say,  '  But  we 
forget  ourselves.  Come,  gentlemen,  it  is  time  for  all  good 
folks  to  be  at  home.'  Whether  any  one  or  no  one  sat  down 
to  table  with  him,  and  whether  he  had  but  bread  and  cheese 
or  a  complete  dinner,  the  table  must  be  properly  spread.  His 
love  of  exactness  and  order  was  the  same  in  business  trans- 
actions ;  every  article  was  paid  for  at  once,  and  for  small 
articles  the  money  was  taken  in  the  hand.  His  temper  was 
soon  ruffled,  but  quickly  appeased.  Not  being  patient 
enough  one  day  to  hear  an  explanation  of  a  fault  from  some 
one  who  was  studious  to  please,  he  gave  much  pain,  and  saw 
it  by  the  tears  which  he  started ;  this  instantly  touched  him 
with  grief,  and  bursting  into  tears  himself,  he  said,  '  I  shall 
live  to  be  a  poor  peevish  old  man,  and  every  one  will  be  tired 
of  me.'  His  commands  were  given  kindly,  and  he  always 
applauded  when  a  person  did   right. 

It  is  painful  to  learn  that  in  his  later  years  his  confidence  in 
mankind  was  much  shaken.  Always  true  to  his  friends  in  all 
fortunes,  he  yet  was  doomed  to  feel  the  treachery  of  many; 
and  on  that  account  he  seemed  to  dread  outliving  his  useful- 
ness. The  same  experience  made  him  exacting,  and  almost 
harsh,  with  young  men  who  wanted  to  be  ministers.  To  curb 
their  vanity,  as  he  would  say,  he  would  place  them  in 
humiliating  circumstances,  and  then  refer  to  the  young 
Roman  orators,  who,  after  being  applauded,  were  sent  upon 
trifling  errands.  He  would  keep  them  in  suspense,  and 
afford  them  little  or  no  encouragement.  One  man,  who 
answered  him  that  he  was  a  tailor,  was  dismissed  with,  '  Go 
to  rag-fair,  and  buy  old  clothes  ; '  and  very  likely  rag-fair  was 
his  proper  destination.     He  said  of  another  who  had  preached 


CHARACTERISTICS  331 

in  his  vestry  from  the  text,  '  These  that  have  turned  the  world 
upside  down,  have  come  hither  also.'  '  That  man  shall  come 
no  more  here  ;  if  God  had  called  him  to  preach,  He  would 
have  furnished  him  with  a  proper  text.'  He  judged  rightly  ; 
for  the  man  afterwards  became  an  inconsistent  clergyman  ;  he 
too  would  have  been  best  at  rag-fair. 

Tormented  as  he  must  have  been  with  all  kinds  of  visitors 
and  all  kinds  of  requests,  had  he  kept  an  open  door,  he  wisely 
suffered  but  few  to  see  him  freely.  '  Who  is  it  ?  what  is  his 
business  ?  '  he  would  demand  before  his  door  was  opened ;  and 
if  the  door  was  opened,  he  would  say,  '  Tell  him  to  come 
to-morrow  morning  at  six  o'clock,  perhaps  five,  or  immediately 
after  preaching  ;  if  he  is  later,  I  cannot  see  him.' 

Knowing  that  he  sometimes  preached  an  hour  and  a  hah 
/  or  two  hours,  it  prepares  us  for  long  prayers  also ;  and  perhaps 
if  others  had  prayed  as  well  as  he  preached  he  might  have 
borne  with  them.  But  he  hated  all  unreality.  In  the  middle 
of  an  immoderately  long  prayer  by  the  master  of  the  house 
where  he  was  once  staying,  he  rose  from  his  knees  and  sat  down 
in  the  chair ;  when  the  drawler  concluded,  he  said  to  him  with 
a  frown,  'Sir,  you  prayed  me  into  a  good  frame,  and  you 
prayed  me  out  of  it  again.' 

We  have  seen  that  he  was  like  old  Mr.  Cole  in  his  use  of 
anecdotes,  nor  were  they  always  without  a  touch  of  humour. 
He  was  no  more  afraid  of  his  congregations  smiling  than 
weeping ;  to  get  the  truth  into  their  hearts  and  heads  was  his 
object.  His  observant  habits  gathered  illustrations  from  all 
quarters ;  and  the  last  book  he  had  read  was  sure  to  colour  his 
next  sermon. 

He  always  ascended  the  pulpit  with  a  pale,  serious  face, 
and  a  slow,  calm  step,  as  if  he  had  a  great  message  for  the 
expectant  thousands.  Much  preaching  made  him,  not  more 
familiar  with  his  awful  themes,  but  more  solemn  ;  and  towards 


332  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

the  close  of  life,  he  sometimes  entreated  his  friends  to  mention 
nothing  to  him  which  did  not  relate  to  eternity.  On  Sabbath 
morning  his  preaching  was  explanatory  and  doctrinal ;  in  the 
afternoon  it  was  more  general  and  hortatory  ;  and  in  the 
evening  it  was  more  general  still.  In  the  morning  he  was 
calm  and  conversational,  occasionally  making  a  modest  show 
of  learning ;  in  the  evening  he  was  oratorical,  and  attempted 
by  every  art  of  persuasion  and  every  terror  of  denunciation  to 
save  his  hearers  from  sin  and  its  punishment.  Then  his 
perfect  elocution  and  graceful  gestures  were  in  full  play,  his 
uttermost  acting  never  appearing  unnatural  or  improper.  It  is 
difficult  to  believe  that  any  preacher  could  successfully  put  a 
fold  of  his  gown  over  his  eyes  to  express  grief,  yet  Whitefield 
invariably  did  it  when  he  was  depicting  in  his  own  vivid  way 
the  downfall  of  Peter,  and  grieving  over  it. 
■-.-  He  seemed  to  have  no  particular  time  for  preparing  for  the 
pulpit,  although  before  entering  it  he  loved  to  have  an  hour  or 
two  alone ;  and  on  Sunday  mornings  he  generally  had  Clarke's 
Bible,  Matthew  Henry's  Commentary,  and  Cruden's  Concor- 
dance within  reach.  It  was  remarked  also  that  at  this  time 
his  state  of  mind  was  more  than  usually  devout  ;  but 
ordinarily,  indeed,  the  intervals  of  conversation  were  filled 
up  with  private  ejaculations  of  praise  and  prayer,  notwith- 
standing his  love  of  pleasantry,  which  he  did  not  care  to 
suppress.  His  was  an  honest,  real  life  from  beginning  to  end ; 
he  was  himself  at  all  times  and  everywhere. 

He  did  not  love  to  be  known  and  observed  wherever  he 
went.  If  he  ever  was  fond  of  popularity,  he  was  weary  of  it 
long  before  he  became  old,  and  often  said  that  he  almost 
'  envied  the  man  who  could  take  his  choice  of  food  at  an 
eating-house,  and  pass  unnoticed.' 

It  is  said  that  when  he  wrote  his  pamphlets,  he  shut  himself 
up  in  his  room,  and  would  see  no  one  until  his   work  was 


HIS  PRINTED   WORKS  333 

done.  Besides  the  productions  of  his  pen  already  noticed,  he 
wrote  a  '  Recommendatory  Preface  to  the  Works  of  John 
Bunyan,'  which  would  have  been  more  appropriately  called  a 
recommendation  of  Puritans  and  Puritan  divinity  ;  it  contains 
not  one  discriminating  remark  on  the  writings  of  the  dreamer. 
Early  in  his  ministry  he  began  some  '  Observations  on  select 
passages  of  Scripture,  turned  into  catechetical  questions,' 
which  are  much  like  questions  that  an  ordinary  Sunday 
school  teacher  would  put  to  his  class  ;  but  they  were  soon 
discontinued.  A  more  elaborate  work  was  '  Law  Gospelised,' 
which  means  'an  attempt  to  render  Mr.  Law's  "  Serious  Call," 
more  useful  to  the  children  of  God,  by  excluding  whatever  is 
not  truly  evangelical,  and  illustrating  the  subject  more  fully 
from  the  Holy  Scriptures.'  We  never  hear  of  Law  in  this 
evangelical  garb  now,  though  we  do  hear  of  him  without  it. 
He  has  been  preferred  ungospelised.  '  A  Communion  Morn- 
ing's Companion,'  which  he  compiled,  contained  extracts  from 
Bishop  Ken  and  Bishop  Wilson  and  fifty-nine  sacramental 
hymns  and  seventeen  doxologies  taken  from  several  authors ; 
the  book  was  a  public  favourite.  Whitefield  also  published 
'  Pious  Aspirations  for  the  use  of  Devout  Communicants,'  a 
book  of  quotations  from  a  work  of  Professor  Rambach,  of 
Giessen  University.  Whitefield  published  several  prayers,  some 
of  which  are  most  appropriate  in  petition  and  language.  Their 
titles  are  a  leaf  of  Church  history,  and  the  petitions  contained 
in  some  are  as  plain  an  index  to  passing  conditions  of  life  as 
are  the  peculiarities  of  the  psalms.  They  were  composed  for 
persons  desiring  and  seeking  after  the  new  birth,  for  those 
newly  awakened  to  a  sense  of  the  Divine  life,  for  those  under 
spiritual  desertion,  for  those  under  the  displeasure  of  relations 
for  being  religious ;  then  come  the  cases  of  servants,  Negroes, 
labourers,  rich  men,  the  sick,  travellers,  sailors,  and  persons  in 
a  storm  at  sea. 


334  GEORGE   WHITEFfELD 

In  1753  Whitefield  published  'Hymns  for  Social  Worship,' 
a  collection  of  hymns  from  various  authors,  '  more  particularly 
designed  for  the  use  of  the  Tabernacle  Congregation  in 
London.'  He  drew  most  of  its  hundred  and  seventy  hymns 
from  Watts,  and  many  from  the  Wesleys.  The  book,  which 
was  quickly  followed  by  Wesley's  '  Hymns  and  Spiritual 
Songs  '  and  a  Moravian  Hymn  Book,  passed  through  thirty-six 
editions  in  forty-three  years.  It  contained  a  preface  addressed 
to  the  'Courteous  Reader,'  and  is  as  like  the  author  as  Wesley's 
famous  preface  to  his  book  of  1779  is  like  him.  Whitefield 
himself  has  left  no  great  hymn  to  the  Church,  though  the 
Methodist  revival  gave  the  English  Church  in  all  its  branches 
the  greater  number  of  its  best  hymns.  Watts,  John  and 
Charles  Wesley,  Doddridge,  Cennick,  Olivers,  Toplady,  and 
others,  all  of  them  either  taking  an  active  part  in  the  movement 
or  coming  within  the  range  of  its  influence,  have  expressed  for 
us  the  humblest  grief  of  our  repentance,  the  fullest  trust  of  our 
faith,  and  the  brightest  expectation  of  our  hope  ;  but  White- 
field  has  given  us  not  a  verse  worth  retaining.  Emotional,  like 
Charles  Wesley,  he  yet  had  none  of  that  fervid  poet's  music. 
One  gift  in  a  supreme  degree  is  enough  for  any  man ;  and  as 
a  preacher  he  was  the  greatest  of  all  his  brethren,  the  most 
competent  of  his  contemporaries  being  judges. 

The  only  direct  association  of  Whitefield's  name  with  the 
names  of  the  brilliant  and  gifted  men  of  his  time  has  already 
appeared  in  the  narrative  of  his  preaching  triumphs.  It  was 
principally  statesmen — Pitt  and  Fox  among  the  number,  never 
Burke — who  went  to  hear  him.  Hogarth  disgraced  his  genius 
by  some  indecent  caricatures  of  him ;  Pope  by  abusing  him  in 
the  Dunciad.  Not  one  of  the  celebrated  Literary  Club,  Garrick 
excepted,  was  ever  seen  in  the  '  soul-trap.'  Oglethorpe  makes 
a  kind  of  link  between  the  Club  and  the  Tabernacle.  A  friend 
of  Whitefield,  he  was  also  a  friend  of  Goldsmith ;  and  some- 


THE  LAST  HYMN  OF  THE  EVANGELISTS    335 

times  he  and  Topham  Beauclerc  would  turn  in  of  an  evening 
to  drink  a  glass  of  wine  with  '  Goldy,'  at  his  chambers  in  Brick 
Court,  Middle  Temple — the  chambers  which  he  bought  with 
the  proceeds  of  the  play  that  Shuter  lifted  into  popularity.  But 
the  easy  ways  of  many  of  these  sons  of  genius,  their  wine- 
sipping,  when  they  could  get  it,  their  comfortable  suppers  at 
the  'Turk's  Head,'  their  gaiety  and  their  sins,  sufficiently  explain 
how  it  was  that  in  all  Whitefield's  career  not  one  of  them  crossed 
his  path.  They  talked  about  him,  as  they  talked  about  every- 
thing and  everybody  ;  they  theorised  about  his  popularity ; 
Johnson  was  sure  that  it  was  '  chiefly  owing  to  the  peculiarity 
of  his  manner.  He  would  be  followed  by  crowds  were  he  to 
wear  a  night-cap  in  the  pulpit,  or  were  he  to  preach  from  a  tree.' 
For  a  while  ;  but  the  night-cap  would  not  have  made  grasping 
men  give  of  their  beloved  money  to  the  orphan-house,  nor 
hardened  sinners  go  home  as  gentle  as  lambs,  nor  worldly 
wretches,  who  had  been  living  only  for  the  body  and  for  this 
life,  begin  to  lift  up  their  abject  souls  to  look  towards  the 
splendours  and  joys  of  a  heavenly  kingdom  ! 

We  turn  again  with  him  to  the  places  which  he  had  loved 
to  frequent,  and  where  his  form  has  become  familiar  to  us.  It 
is  the  last  interview  between  Whitefield  and  Wesley  that 
Wesley  records  in  his  journal  on  Monday  (their  old  meeting 
day),  February  27,  1769.  He  says  :  '  I  had  one  more  agree- 
able conversation  with  my  old  friend  and  fellow-labourer, 
George  Whitefield.  His  soul  appeared  to  be  vigorous  still, 
but  his  body  was  sinking  apace ;  and  unless  God  interposes 
with  His  mighty  hand,  he  must  soon  finish  his  labours.'  And 
this  is  a  pleasant  picture  of  the  now  aged,  grey-headed 
evangelists,  who  in  their  youth  had  fired  the  nation  with 
religious  enthusiasm,  which  is  sketched  by  Charles  Wesley  in 
a  letter  to  his  wife  :  '  Last  Friday  I  dined  with  my  brother  at 
George's  chapel.     Mrs,  Herritage  was  mistress,  and  provided 


336  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

the  dinner.  Hearty  Mr.  Adams  was  there ;  and  to  complete 
our  band,  Howel  Harris.  It  was  indeed  a  feast  of  love.  My 
brother  and  George  prayed  :  we  all  sang  an  hymn  in  the  chapel.' 
They  were  never  all  together  again  in  this  world.  Their  last 
hymn  in  '  George's  chapel '  carries  the  soul  up  to  that  house 
in  the  heavens,  and  we  seem  to  hear  it  renewed  again  there. 

The  parting  solemnities  were  exceedingly  awful,  when,  early 
in  September,  1769,  Whitefield,  accompanied  by  Cornelius 
Winter,  took  his  last  farewell  of  his  English  friends.  His 
thirteenth  voyage  much  resembled  his  first ;  it  was  hindered 
by  similar  delays  ;  it  was  made  dangerous  by  similar  high  gales. 
He  took  to  his  old  employment  when  sailing,  of  reading  the 
History  of  England,  composing  sermons,  and  writing  letters. 
The  greatest  respect  was  shown  him  by  both  captain  and 
passengers  ;  and  all  attended  service.  He  only  wanted  some- 
body about  him  with  '  a  little  more  brains,'  he  said,  and  then 
his  comforts  would  have  been  complete. 

His  reception  at  Charleston  was  very  hearty,  and  he 
preached  the  day  after  landing.  Bethesda  was  in  a  satisfactory 
condition;  he  admitted  ten  orphans  in  the  spring  of  1770. 
They  were  what  he  called  his  prizes.  The  peace  and  happi- 
ness of  the  place  were  his  daily  joy ;  and  thus  Bethesda,  after 
all  the  trouble  it  had  cost  him,  after  all  his  prayers,  and  tears, 
and  pleadings  for  it,  was  to  minister  largely  to  the  comfort  of 
his  last  days.  His  health  continued  better  than  it  had  been 
for  years  ;  and  when  summer  approached  he  started  on  his 
old  preaching  circuit  in  the  north.  Invitations  crowded  in 
upon  him  \  and  he  travelled  from  place  to  place  as  if  the 
vigour  of  his  youth  were  renewed.  During  one  month,  July, 
he  travelled  five  hundred  miles,  riding  and  preaching  during 
the  heat  of  every  day. 

How  like  the  language  of  his  youth  is  that  which  he  penned 
at  New  York  to  his  friend  Keen  : — ■ 


B  VENTIDB  y3l 

'  O  whut  a  new  scene  of  usefulness  is  opening  in  various  parts  of  this  new 
world  !  All  fresh  work  where  I  have  been.  The  Divine  influence  hath 
been  as  at  the  first.  Invitations  crowded  upon  me,  both  from  ministers 
and  people,  from  many,  many  quarters.  A  very  peculiar  providence  led 
me  lately  to  a  place  where  a  horse-stealer  was  executed  ;  thousands 
attended.  The  poor  criminal  had  sent  me  several  letters,  hearing  I  was  in 
the  country.  The  sheriff  allowed  him  to  come  and  hear  a  sermon  under  an 
adjacent  tree.  Solemn  !  solemn  !  After  being  by  himself  about  an  hour, 
I  walked  half  a  mile  with  him  to  the  gallows.  His  heart  had  been  softened 
before  my  first  visit.  He  seemed  full  of  solid,  Divine  consolations.  An 
instructive  walk  !  I  went  up  with  him  into  the  cart.  He  gave  a  short 
exhortation.  I  then  stood  upon  the  coffin,  added,  I  trust,  a  word  in 
season,  prayed,  gave  the  blessing,  and  took  my  leave.' 

This  was  not  the  first  execution  he  had  been  present  at. 
He  pressed  all  things  into  the  service  of  the  pulpit,  and  was 
wont  to  make  even  the  final  scenes  of  a  criminal's  career  give 
effect  to  the  urgency  and  solemnity  of  his  appeals  and  warn- 
ings. At  the  close  of  a  sermon,  and  after  pausing  for  a 
moment,  he  would  say,  ivith  his  eyes  full  of  tears  and  his  heart 
almost  too  big  for  words  :  '  I  am  going  now  to  put  on  my 
condemning  cap.  Sinner,  I  must  do  it;  I  must  pronounce 
sentence  upon  you.'  Then,  like  a  peal  of  thunder,  fell  the 
terrible  curse,  '  Depart  from  Me,  ye  cursed,  into  everlasting 
fire,  prepared  for  the  devil  and  his  angels.' 

It  was  now  eventide  with  him  ;  only  one  week  of  life 
remained.  There  was  a  hush  and  quietness  gathering  round 
the  close  of  his  marvellous  ministry,  which  seemed  to  tell  of 
coming  rest  for  the  weary  and  broken  servant.  Opposition 
was  silent ;  none  spoke  or  wrote  a  word  against  him.  The 
people,  as  if  they  expected  to  see  his  face  no  more,  clung  to 
him,  and  were  unwilling  to  let  him  leave  their  towns  and 
villages,  through  which  he  was  still  attempting  to  travel  on  his 
evangelistic  work.  But  it  was  not  always  he  could  meet  them 
when  they  had  assembled  together ;  fur  the  body  was  being 
shaken  to   its  lull.     They  were,  he  said,  but   'poor   efforts  he 


33&  GEORGE   WHITE  FIELD 

could  make  to  serve  his  Lord.  0  for  a  warm  heart  !  0  to 
stand  fast  in  the  faith — to  quit  ourselves  like  men  and  be 
strong  ! '  To  the  letter  which  contains  this  prayer,  he  sub- 
scribed himself,  as  was  now  his  way,  '  Less  than  the  least 
of  all,  George  Whitefield.'  It  was  the  last  he  penned, 
and  well  did  it  harmonise  with  one  of  the  strongest  wishes  he 
had  ever  made  known  to  God — the  wish  to  be  humble. 

On  Friday,  September  28th,  he  preached  at  Portsmouth, 
and  on  the  following  morning  started  for  Boston,  travelling  by 
way  of  Exeter  and  Newbury  Port,  in  order  to  fulfil  an  engage- 
ment at  the  latter  place  on  the  Sunday.     But  the  people  of 
Exeter  could  not  let  him    pass   without   his   giving   them  a 
sermon ;  and  he  yielded  to  their  entreaties.     He  had  ridden 
fifteen  miles  that  morning,  and,  as  he  was  more  than  usually 
uneasy,   one  remarked  to  him  before  going  out  to    preach, 
'Sir,  you  are  more  fit  to  go  to  bed  than  to  preach.'    Whitefield 
remarked,  '  True  sir ' ;  then  turning  aside,  he  clasped  his  hands 
together,   and  looking  up,  said,   '  Lord  Jesus,  I  am  weary  in 
Thy  work,  but  not  of  Thy  work.     If  I  have   not  yet  finished 
my  course,  let  me  go  and  speak  for  Thee  once  more  in  the 
fields,  seal  Thy  truth,  and  come  home  and  die.'     The  Lord 
heard  his  request.     He  went  out,  and,  taking  his  stand  on  a 
hogshead  for  a  pulpit,  preached  in  the  fields  for  nearly  two 
hours  to  a  large  congregation,  at  first  slowly  and  with  great 
effort,  then   with  all  his    wonted   animation  and  power,   '  his 
countenance,'  says  a  spectator,    '  shining  like  the  unclouded 
sun.'    Then  he  dined,  and  went  forward  to  Newbury  Port  with 
a  dear  old  friend,  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Parsons.     In  the  evening 
he  was  tired,  and  after  an  early  supper,  of  which  he  partook 
very  sparingly,  begged  Mr.   Parsons,  at  whose  house  he  was 
staying,  to  have  family  prayer,  so  that  he  might  retire  to  rest  at 
once.     Meanwhile  the  pavement  in  front  of  the  house  and  the 
hall  became  crowded  with   people  who  wanted  to  hear  some 


THE  LAST  NIGHT  339 

words  of  grace  and  truth  from  his  lips;  but  he  felt  himself  un- 
equal to  the  task  of  addressing  them,  and  said  to  another 
clergyman,  '  Brother,  you  must  speak  to  these  dear  people  ;  I 
cannot  say  a  word.'  To  his  friend  and  companion,  Mr. 
Richard  Smith,  who  slept  in  the  same  room  with  him,  he  said, 
'  I  will  sit  and  read  till  you  come  to  me.'  But  there  were  the 
waiting  people  to  be  passed,  as,  with  candle  in  hand,  he  went 
to  his  bedroom ;  and  his  heart  strove  with  him  to  say  some- 
thing. He  halted  on  the  staircase,  turned  towards  them,  and 
began  an  exhortation.  Tearful  eyes  were  lifted  up  to  him, 
while  his  words  flowed  on  and  ceased  not  '  until  the  candle, 
which  he  still  held,  burned  away,  and  went  out  in  its  socket.' 

When  his  friend  entered  his  room,  Whitefield  was  found 
reading  the  Bible,  with  Watts'  psalms  lying  open  before  him. 
After  committing  himself  into  the  hands  of  God,  he  went  to 
rest,  and  slept,  with  the  window  half-open,  till  two  in  the 
morning,  when  an  attack  of  asthma  seized  him.  Yet  he  talked 
of  his  work  as  if  many  days  more  were  left  to  him  ;  he  must 
have  two  or  three  days'  riding  without  preaching,  and  then  he 
would  be  all  right,  or,  he  thought,  his  preaching  the  next  day 
would  make  him  better — his  old  remedy,  a  '  pulpit-sweat ' — he 
used  to  sweat  through  and  through — would  relieve  him ;  he 
would  rather  wear  out  than  rust  out.  It  had  long  been  his 
habit  to  rise  in  the  night  and  pray  ;  and  this  night,  weary  and 
panting,  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  prayed  God  to  bless  his  preach- 
ing on  the  past  day,  and  his  forthcoming  services  on  the 
Sunday  ;  to  bring  more  souls  to  Christ ;  to  give  him  the 
direction  in  the  way  he  should  take,  whether  he  should  winter 
at  Boston,  or  hasten  to  the  south  ;  to  remember  Bethesda  and 
his  dear  family ;  to  smile  on  the  congregations  at  the  Taber- 
nacle and  Tottenham  Court  Chapel,  and  on  all  his  English 
friends.  He  lay  down  again  to  sleep ;  but  in  an  hour  he  called 
his  friend  for  help.     '  My  asthma — my  asthma  is  coming  on,' 


S 


34o  GEORGE   WHITE  EI  ELD 

he  said.  At  five  o'clock  he  rose  to  open  the  window  wider  for 
more  air.  A  few  minutes  afterwards  he  turned  to  his  com- 
panion, and  said,  '  I  am  dying.'  He  ran  to  the  other  window, 
panting  for  breath,  but  could  get  no  relief.  They  seated  him 
in  his  chair,  wrapped  his  cloak  round  him,  and  did  their  utmost 
to  restore  him.  But  the  end  was  come.  The  device  on  his 
seal,  of  wings  outspread  for  flight,  and  the  motto  it  bore,  ' x  Astra 
petamus,'  had  long  expressed  his  ardent  desire  to  pass  even 
beyond  the  stars;  and  at  six  o'clock  on  Sunday  morning, 
September  30,  1770,  he  entered  heaven  itself. 

The  end  was  conformable  to  his  hope  and  prayer.  He  was 
an  evangelist  and  died  in  a  foreign  land,  although  not  among 
strangers.  He  was  a  field-preacher,  and  preached  his  last 
sermon  in  the  fields.  He  had  feared  outliving  his  useful- 
ness, and  was  permitted  a  reviving  of  his  strength  before  he 
departed  at  the  comparatively  early  age  of  fifty-six,  and  after 
thirty-four  years  of  exertion.  He  had  expected  to  die  silent  ; 
for  he  said,  ( It  has  pleased  God  to  enable  me  to  bear  so  many 
testimonies  for  Him  during  my  life,  that  He  will  require  none 
from  me  when  I  die.'     And  so  it  was. 

His  dying  prayer  for  the  salvation  of  souls  was  also  answered 
that  very  day.  When  he  preached  at  Portsmouth  on  the 
previous  Friday,  a  young  sail-maker  named  Benjamin  Randall 
heard  him,  and  was,  as  he  had  often  been  before,  greatly  im- 
pressed with  his  words  and  tears.  Randall,  however,  was  hard 
and  bitter  even  against  the  man  who  fascinated  him.  But 
about  noon  on  the  Sunday  a  stranger  rode  into  the  town,  and 
halting  at  the  different  corners  in  the  main  street,  cried  in  a  clear 
but  subdued  voice,  '  Whitefield  is  dead !  Whitefield  is  dead  I 
He  died  at  Newbury  Port  this  morning  at  six  o'clock.'  A  voice 
also  cried  in  the  young  man's  soul,  '  Whitefield  is  dead. 
Whitefield  is  in  heaven,  but  I  am  on  the  road  to  hell.  He 
was  a  man  of  God,  and  yet  I  reviled  him,  and  spoke  reproach- 


MS  FUNERAL  341 

fully  of  him.  He  taught  me  the  way  to  heaven,  but  I  regarded 
him  not.  0  that  I  could  hear  his  voice  again  !  But  ah,  never, 
no,  never  shall  I  again  hear  it  till  in  the  judgment  of  the  great 
day  he  shall  appear  as  a  swift  witness  against  me.'  He  yielded 
himself  to  God. 

On  Tuesday,  October  2nd,  Whitefield  was  buried,  according 
to  his  wish,  in  front  of  the  pulpit  of  Mr.  Parsons,  in  the  Presby- 
terian Church  at  Newbury  Port,  the  mighty  host  of  mourners 
present,  six  thousand  members  and  ministers  of  many  denomi- 
nations, fitly  representing  the  catholicity  of  his  heart  and  the 
magnitude  of  his  labours.  When  the  coffin  was  placed  close 
to  the  mouth  of  the  vault,  the  Rev.  Daniel  Rogers,  of  Exeter, 
one  of  his  sons  in  the  faith,  ascended  the  pulpit,  offered  prayer, 
and  confessed  before  all  his  vast  obligations  to  him  whose 
body  they  were  about  to  commit  to  the  grave.  His  emotion 
conquered  him,  and  as  he  cried  out,  '  O  my  father,  my  father  ! ' 
and  stood  and  wept,  the  people  mingled  their  tears  with  his. 
They  tried  to  sing  a  hymn,  but  weeping  choked  many  voices. 
A  sermon  was  then  preached ;  the  coffin  was  lowered  into  the 
vault ;  another  short  prayer  was  offered  ;  and  the  congregation, 
still  in  tears,  passed  along  the  streets  to  their  homes. 

The  outward  demonstrations  of  grief  were  numerous  and 
sincere.  The  bells  of  Newbury  Port  were  tolled,  and  the  ships 
in  the  harbour  fired  their  guns,  and  hung  their  flags  half-mast 
high.  Funeral  sermons  were  preached  in  the  principal  cities 
of  America.  In  Georgia  all  the  black  cloth  in  the  stores  was 
bought  up  for  mourning  by  the  sorrowing  people.  They  hung 
the  church  at  Savannah  in  black,  and  the  Governor  and 
Council  led  the  procession  which  attended  to  hear  the  funeral 
sermon.  In  London,  where  the  news  of  his  death  was  received 
on  November  5th,  the  same  grief  was  felt  and  expressed.  The 
London  Chronicle  of  November  19th  says  that  the  multitudes 
which  went   to   hear  his  funeral  sermon  by  Wesley,  in  Totten- 


342  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

ham  Court  Chapel  and  the  Tabernacle,  exceeded  all  belief; 
and  in  churches  and  chapels  of  all  orders  there  were  similar 
commemorations  of  him. 

Lovers  of  absolute,  unvarying  consistency,  and  lovers  of  real 
or  apparent  contradictions,  may  measure  him  by  the  room  he 
had  for  diverse  things.  He  loved  privacy,  but  always  lived 
in  public ;  he  was  the  foremost  philanthropist  of  his  time,  but 
owned  fifty  slaves  to  maintain  his  orphans,  and  bequeathed 
them  in  his  will  to  Lady  Huntingdon  in  trust  for  the  same 
use  ;  he  was  slim  in  person,  but  occasionally  stormed  in  his 
preaching  as  if  he  were  a  giant ;  he  was  weak,  but  worked  to  the 
last,  and  crowded  a  long  life  into  a  short  one ;  he  was  the 
favourite  preacher  of  colliers  and  London  roughs,  but  was  an 
equal  favourite  of  peers  and  scholars ;  he  believed  in  a  limited 
atonement  for  sin,  but  proclaimed  the  love  of  God  with  a 
tenderness  which  made  all  feel  that  Christ  had  died  for  them  ; 
he  was  a  clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  and  also 
practically  an  Independent  minister,  but,  at  his  own  request, 
lies  buried  in  a  Presbyterian  church ;  he  was  a  Calvinist  in 
doctrine,  but  chose  an  Arminian  to  preach  his  funeral  sermon. 
Nominally  narrow  and  exclusive,  he  was  really  one  of  the  most 
liberalising  influences  of  his  age,  and  beneath  his  apparent 
inconsistencies  and  behind  his  ever-changing  life  there  was 
a  true  unity.  From  his  first  sermon  to  his  last  he  had  one 
motive — the  love  of  Christ — and  one  aim — the  salvation  of 
souls.  Nor  through  all  his  distractions  did  he  ever  turn  aside 
for  a  moment  from  his  great  work.  The  hostility  of  mobs,  the 
bitterness  of  controversy,  the  unfaithfulness  of  friends,  the 
opposition  of  the  clergy  and  bishops,  the  seductions  of  popu- 
larity and  the  praise  of  the  titled,  all  failed  to  make  any 
impression  upon  his  resolution  to  preach  Christ  to  every  soul 
that  he  could  reach. 

Two  questions  are   almost   sure   to   be  upon    the   reader's 


RESULTS  OF  HIS   WORK  343 

tongue.  First,  what  became  of  the  orphan-house  ?  Secondly, 
where  are  the  results  of  his  preaching  ?  These  shall  now  be 
answered. 

I.  The  orphan-house,  with  everything  connected  with  it, 
was  left  to  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  Mr.  Habersham  to 
act  in  her  absence  from  America.  Arrangements  had  been 
made  in  Whitefield's  lifetime  for  carrying  on  an  academy  along 
with  the  orphanage.  It  became  also  a  home,  whence  mission- 
aries, sent  from  England  by  Lady  Huntingdon,  started  on 
mission  work  among  the  Indians  and  the  settlers.  It  was 
accidentally  burnt  down  about  two  years  after  the  death  of 
Whitefield,  and  rebuilt,  but  not  upon  the  original  site.  Other 
changes  of  fortune  happened  to  it,  one  of  which  was  the 
appointment  of  Franklin,  its  early  opponent,  as  a  trustee, 
because  he  was  '  an  honest  man.'  Its  original  charter  appointed 
its  continuance  as  long  as  there  were  three  members  to  cele- 
brate the  anniversary,  which  falls  on  St.  George's  Day.  This 
provision  might  once  have  sealed  its  fate.  Three  members, 
'a  Protestant,  a  Catholic,  and  an  Israelite,'  who  apparently 
constituted  the  whole  board  at  that  time,  were  all  prisoners  of 
war  on  board  a  British  man-of-war  when  St.  George's  Day  came 
round.  Remembering  the  charter,  they  begged  permission 
of  the  captain  to  go  ashore  and  celebrate  the  anniversary 
under  an  oak  tree  in  Tunbury,  Georgia.  He  consented,  and  the 
ceremony  was  duly  performed.  Mr.  Joseph  S.  Fay  succeeded, 
during  the  time  he  was  president  of  the  institution,  in  repur- 
chasing the  old  site,  and  placing  the  orphanage  upon  it  again. 
In  1870  a  new  building  was  begun,  making  the  fourth  since 
Whitefield  laid  the  first  brick  of  Bethesda  with  his  own  hand. 

Whittier  falls  into  a  strange  mistake  when,  in  his  fine  poem, 
1  The  Preacher,'  he  says — 

'Alas  for  the  preacher's  cherished  schemes  ! 
Mission  and  church  are  now  but  dreams  ; 


344  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

Nor  prayer  nor  fasting  availed  the  plan 
To  honour  God  through  the  wrong  of  man. 
Of  all  his  labours  no  trace  remains 
Save  the  bondman  lifting  his  hands  in  chains.' 

Hallowed  traces  of  his  labours  remain  in  every  place  he 
visited ;  the  reproachful  bondman  only  is  gone ;  and  had  the 
liberal-minded  Quaker  known  and  realised  all  the  facts,  he 
would  have  penned  a  glowing  tribute  to  Christ's  abounding 
love,  which  forgives  our  sins  and  mistakes,  and  fulfils  for  us 
in  nobler  forms  our  purposes  and  prayers. 

II.  The  results  of  Whitefield's  work  may  be  classed  as 
indirect  and  direct.  Little  can  be  affirmed  positively  of  the 
bearing  of  his  work  upon  political  and  social  life,  but  it  must 
have  corresponded  to  the  religious  effect.  Men  like  Pulteney, 
Chatham,  and  Fox  were  not  uninfluenced  in  their  political 
action  by  the  words  they  heard  at  Lady  Huntingdon's ;  while 
among  the  people  Whitefield  saved  to  the  nation  thousands 
of  its  finest  men  and  women.  In  America  he  saw,  during 
his  last  visit,  the  beginnings  of  the  War  of  Independence,  and 
sympathised  with  the  feelings  of  the  colonists.  Whether  he 
would  ultimately  have  sided  with  them  no  one  can  say ;  he  was 
spared  the  pain  of  the  strife;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  which 
side  his  converts  were  on  and  which  part  they  played.  One 
of  the  men  whom  he  greatly  influenced  was  the  Rev.  Alex- 
ander Craighead,  and  he  again  is  said  to  have  aroused  the 
Presbyterian  patriots  who  framed  the  Mecklenburg  Declaration, 
which  was  copied  only  one  year  later  by  the  Philadelphia 
Declaration  of  Independence.  Thus  Calvinism  became  once 
more  the  stone  of  stumbling  on  which  tyranny  has  so  often 
been  broken. 

i.  Among  indirect  results  must  be  placed  the  impetus  which 
he  undoubtedly  gave  to  philanthropic  work.  His  preaching  to 
prisoners  and  his   constant  pleadings  for   orphans,  for  perse- 


RESULTS  OF  HIS   WORK  345 

cuted  Protestants  on  the  Continent,  and  for  other  distressed 
persons,  accustomed  all  classes  of  people  to  kindly  thoughts 
and  generous  deeds  for  the  wretched  and  the  forlorn.  If  his 
collections  be  taken  in  present  equivalent,  they  will  appear 
enormous.  He  created,  not  altogether,  but  largely,  the  feeling 
upon  which  philanthropy  in  its  active  forms  must  live.  The 
benevolent  objects  of  present  religious  work  received  recogni- 
tion in  every  city  and  village,  when  the  connection  between 
acceptance  with  God  through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  the 
necessity  for  good  works  was  repeatedly  and  clearly  pointed 
out.  Justification  was  the  introduction  to  feeding  the  hungry, 
clothing  the  naked,  and  housing  the  orphan. 

It  is  equally  significant  that  the  great  missionary  move- 
ments of  our  time  followed  closely  upon  the  Methodist 
reformation  ;  and  in  that  reformation  who  was  there  among 
the  hosts  of  preachers  and  evangelists  to  be  compared  with 
Whitefield  for  missionary  enterprise  ?  Whose  foot  ranged 
over  so  wide  a  circuit  ?  Whose  sympathies  were  enlisted  for 
so  many  objects  ?  If  he  did  not  go  to  the  heathen  who 
worship  idols  of  wood  and  stone,  he  went  to  those  who  were 
debased  by  the  lowest  vices ;  and  when,  under  his  leadership, 
the  Church  had  conducted  them  to  a  holy  life  and  pure  enjoy- 
ments, her  attention  was  next  directed  to  the  heathen  beyond. 
Whitefield  accustomed  the  Church  to  the  idea  of  aggression 
upon  the  kingdom  of  darkness  ■  he  taught  her  that  all  lost  and 
forgotten  people  are  the  inheritance  of  her  Lord.  The  Church 
Missionary  Society,  the  child  of  the  evangelical  fervour  of  the 
followers  of  Whitefield — Newton,  Thornton,  Scott,  and  Venn — 
is  the  strongest  foreign  missionary  society  in  the  world,  and 
the  history  of  its  first  century's  work  just  completed  would 
have  been  a  book  exactly  after  Whitefield's  heart. 

Again,  it  needs  but  a  simple  statement  of  facts  to  show  that 
Whitefield's  preaching  and  his  catholic  spirit  (the  latter  more 


346  GEORGE   WHITEFIELD 

than  the  former)  have  tended  in  no  small  measure  to  produce 
in  England,  as  they  first  did  in  America,  a  true  love  of  spiritual 
freedom  and  an  honest  reverence  for  religious  equality.  In 
his  labours  among  all  denominations  he  affected  no  con- 
descension, he  never  played  the  patron.  All  were  equally, 
truly  brethren.  Neither  to  benefit  himself,  nor  to  forward  any 
of  his  plans,  would  he  place  one  denomination  before  another. 
His  conduct  with  regard  to  Bethesda  College  proves  indis- 
putably that  he  believed  in  religious  equality,  and  would  not 
support  or  countenance  anything  else. 

Could  nothing  more  than  this  be  said,  then  Whitefield  has 
not  lived  in  vain  ;  since  the  power  of  a  life  consists  not  so 
much  in  the  formation  of  parties  and  sects  and  schools  as  in 
the  anticipation  of  the  truest  and  holiest  things  of  future  days, 
and  in  the  preparation  of  the  world  for  their  advent.  Churches 
may  be  cemeteries  of  the  dead  railed  off  from  the  living,  or 
loving  messengers  of  Christ  going  about  doing  good.  White- 
field  found  them  generally  the  former,  and  left  them  the  latter. 
He  was  a  breath,  an  inspiration,  which  to  this  day  thrills 
evangelical  Christendom. 

2.  Still,  the  demand  is  sure  to  be  made  for  facts  and  figures. 
What  did  he  accomplish  ?  is  the  question  asked.  The  answer 
is  : — 

(i)  That  his  converts  were  to  be  found  wherever  he  had 
travelled,  nay,  even  beyond  that  extensive  range,  and  were  to 
be  counted  by  tens  of  thousands.  His  preaching  was  remark- 
able for  challenging  the  strongest  characters,  and  either  con- 
quering them  or  else  rousing  their  active  opposition ;  neutrality 
was  not  easy  in  his  presence.  Among  his  converts  were 
Thomas  Olivers,  author  of  the  hymn  '  The  God  of  Abraham 
praise ' ;  Samuel  Davies,  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  Vir- 
ginia; Thomas  Rankin,  of  Dunbar,  one  of  Wesley's  best 
helpers ;    Robert    Robinson,    the  famous   Baptist  minister  of 


RESULTS  OF  HIS    WORK  347 

Cambridge,  and  author  of  '  Come,  Thou  Fount  of  every  bless- 
ing ' ;  Andrew  Kinsman,  Whitefield's  '  dear  Timothy,' a  mighty 
preacher  of  the  Word  ;  Cornelius  Winter,  the  spiritual  father 
of  William  Jay,  of  Bath ;  Henry  Tanner,  a  useful  preacher  at 
Exeter ;  John  Edwards,  of  Dublin,  who  preached  in  many 
parts  of  England,  Scotland,  and  Ireland  ;  John  Fawcett,  a 
Yorkshire  preacher,  author  of  '  Blest  is  the  tie  that  binds '  and 
'  Lord,  dismiss  us  with  Thy  blessing  ' ;  Thomas  Adams,  of 
Minchin  Hampton,  the  fearless  witness,  the  able  minister,  the 
faithful  friend ;  Samuel  Cooper,  one  of  the  most  popular 
preachers  in  America. 

(2)  That  a  great  number  of  his  converts  were  ministers 
properly  trained  for  their  ministerial  work,  who  handed  the 
truth  down  to  children's  children.  Such,  e.g.,  was  James  Hervey, 
the  once  popular  author.  In  the  neighbourhood  of  Boston  in 
America  alone  there  were  at  one  time  twenty  ministers  who 
owned  him  as  their  spiritual  father.  Some  of  the  ministers 
had  a  spiritual  history  not  less  wonderful  than  his  own. 

(3)  That  he  was  the  first  of  the  evangelical  clergy  in  the 
Church  of  England  ;  and  had  they  formed  a  separate  sect, 
instead  of  a  party  in  a  church,  no  one  would  have  asked  what 
are  the  results  of  his  labours.  This  is  the  party  which  holds 
Whitefield's  legacy  to  mankind  strictly  in  the  letter — sometimes 
not  more  than  that.  Other  parties,  again,  to  whose  faith  and 
practice  he  would  have  taken  serious  exception,  have  imbibed 
his  spirit  of  zeal  and  love,  and  closely  resemble  him  in  all  that 
makes  his  character  lofty  and  his  life  beautiful.  The  whole- 
Church  of  England  has  been  moved  by  the  wave  which  first 
lifted  on  its  breast  only  a  small  section  of  her  people,  though 
parties  have  drifted  in  different  directions. 

(4)  That  he  helped  to  revive  and  increase  the  Churches  of 
the  Dissenters.  His  own  chapels  belong  to  them,  and  in  York- 
shire at  least  it  is  affirmed,  on  competent  authority,  that  all  the 


348  GEORGE  WHITEFIELD 

chapels  in  which  his  preaching  and  that  of  other  evangelicals 
was  welcomed  continue  to  this  day  to  be  centres  of  spiritual 
influence,  while  such  as  rejected  it  have  declined  or  become 
extinct.  Whitefield's  lay-preachers  supplied  many  of  their 
pulpits.  In  many  favourite  Nonconformist  preachers,  down 
even  to  a  generation  ago,  if  not  now,  it  is  not  difficult  to  trace 
the  influence  of  his  popular  oratory — the  doctrinal  solidity,  the 
pungent  application,  the  tender  and  passionate  appeal,  the 
solemn  warning.  Nonconformist  ministers  proclaim  our  Lord's 
atonement  for  sin,  while  possibly  differing  as  to  the  nature  of 
the  atonement ;  they  insist  upon  a  personal  and  vital  union  of 
spirit  with  Jesus  Christ ;  they  invoke  the  help  of  the  Holy 
Ghost,  feeling  that  without  His  power  upon  preacher  and 
hearer  no  spiritual  good  can  be  done.  But  they  say  little 
about  predestination,  and  nothing  at  all  about  Christ's  having 
died  for  an  elect  world. 

(5)  That  the  Church  of  Scotland  was  made  alive  again  by 
his  numerous  visits  to  Scotland,  and  by  his  impassioned  appeals 
to  the  slumbering  and  the  dead.  Scotch  journeys  were  nearly 
always  an  unmixed  joy  to  Whitefield  because  of  the  good 
he  did  ;  and  it  is  noticeable  that,  sixty  years  ago,  the  foremost 
ministers  and  the  great  bulk  of  the  members  of  the  Scotch 
Church  assumed  the  position  of  the  English  Dissenters,  and 
made  of  themselves  'a  Free  Church.' 

(6)  That  the  Church  in  Wales,  of  all  denominations,  received 
a  remarkable  impetus  from  Methodism,  and  that  Whitefield 
was  the  first  to  join  hands  with  the  earnest  men  of  the  Princi- 
pality. The  early  representations  of  the  Methodists  as  to  the 
religious  condition  of  the  country  cannot  be  relied  upon,  but 
the  following  comparative  table  was  carefully  prepared  by  Dr. 
Rees,  and  published  in  his  volume  on  Nonconformity  in 
Wales.  It  gave  the  number  of  Nonconformist  congregations 
in  Wales  as   no  in   1716,  105  in   1742,  171   in   1775,  993  in 


RESULTS  OF  HIS   WORK  349 

1816,  2,927  in  1861.  It  is  now  3,456,  besides  the  congrega- 
tions connected  with  91  Wesleyan  Methodist,  and  32  Primitive 
Methodist,  circuits.  The  great  increase  between  1775  and 
1 81 6  was  owing  to  the  separation  of  the  Calvinistic  Metho- 
dists from  the  Established  Church,  which  took  place  in  181 1  ; 
and  from  1816  to  1899  the  increase  is  the  result  of  the  zeal 
and  labours  of  the  Churches,  crowned  with  the  blessing  of  God. 
Broadly  stated,  the  result  of  Methodism  in  Wales  has  been  the 
changing  of  a  nation  of  ignorant,  irreligious  Churchmen  into 
a  nation  of  conscientious  Nonconformists,  who  adhere  to  their 
convictions  in  spite  of  much  persecution  and  disadvantage. 
Whitefield  neither  desired  nor  sought  the  Nonconformity;  but, 
as  in  the  case  of  Scotland,  an  intense  religious  life  would  have 
freedom  of  action. 

(7)  That  in  America  he  founded  the  Presbyterian  Church 
of  Virginia,  and  helped  more  than  any  man  to  triple  the 
ministers  of  the  New  York  Synod  within  seven  years,  and  to 
bring  into  existence  a  hundred  and  fifty  Congregational 
Churches  in  less  than  twenty  years.  He  gave  a  welcome  in 
1769  to  two  of  Wesley's  preachers  who  were  sent  to  America — 
Richard  Boardman  and  Joseph  Pilmoor — and  his  preaching 
prepared  the  way  for  the  formation  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal 
Church,  one  of  the  strongest  churches  in  the  world.  His 
labours  materially  aided  the  building  of  Princeton  College  and 
Dartmouth  College.  They  also  produced  the  same  effect  upon 
Church  government  in  America,  which  we  have  seen  to  have 
been  produced  in  Scotland,  England,  and  Wales.  The  spiritual 
life  would  not  be  fettered  ;  and  the  union  between  Church  and 
State  was  broken. 

What  did  Whitefield  accomplish  ?  It  is  true  that  he  did  not 
organise  his  converts  into  a  new  denomination,  but  some  will 
think  that  he  did  a  nobler  service  by  encouraging  them  to  join 
any  existing  Church  to  which   their  beliefs  and   sympathies 


350  GEORGE   U'MTEFIELD 

might  draw  them.  He  was  chiefly  the  means  of  rejuvenating 
the  Episcopal,  the  Independent,  the  Presbyterian,  and  the 
Baptist  Churches ;  even  the  Society  of  Friends  was  quickened 
by  his  labours,  and  he  frequently  preached  for  Wesley's 
societies.  The  catholic  spirit  of  the  work  is  perhaps  more 
than  the  work  itself.  He  also  founded  churches  and  inaugu- 
rated religious  revolutions  by  a  sermon.  His  last  sermons, 
as  we  have  seen,  touched  the  heart  of  a  young  man  named 
Randall;  his  death  sealed  all  the  holy  impressions  as  with  the 
mark  of  God  ;  and  that  young  man  shortly  afterwards  founded 
in  the  United  States  the  Free-will  Baptist  Church,  a  Church 
always  opposed  to  slavery,  and  now  nearly  one  hundred 
thousand  members  strong.  His  works  do  follow  him.  Only 
this  year  (1900)  the  pastor  of  Tottenham  Court  Road  Chapel 
received  a  donation  towards  the  cost  of  rebuilding  that  structure 
from  a  gentleman  in  Australia  who  had  been  converted  in 
that  colony  by  reading  one  of  Whitefield's  sermons. 

Could  his  hand  add  one  word  to  this  record  of  his  life  and 
its  fruits,  it  would  be  this — '  Grace  !  Grace  !  Grace  ! '  For 
his  sake,  then,  and  especially  for  the  sake  of  Him  who  came 
bringing  grace  and  truth  with  Him,  it  shall  be  inscribed  as  the 
last  word  here — GRACE. 


INDEX. 


Aberdeen,  177-8 

Acting,    W.'s    opinion   concerning, 

5 

Actors,  their  opinion  of  W.'s  preach- 
ing, 306-7;  caricature  W. ,  311— 
12 

Adams,    Thomas,    207,    212,    336, 

347 
Anecdotes,  2,  119-20,  125,  126,  166, 
16S,    192    note,    233,    235,    253, 
263,    264,    268   note,    272,    276, 
300  note,  305-9,  312  note,  317- 

21,  331-2 
Associate  Presbytery,  the  views  of, 
127  ;  first  negotiations  of  with 
W.,  127;  W.  invited  to  preach 
for,  169-70 ;  W.  preaches  for, 
172  ;  confers  with  W.  about  join- 
ing them,  173-6  ;  angry  with  W., 
185  ;  condemns  the  Cambuslang 
revival,  192 

Barber,  Mr.,  appointed  one  of  the 
Superintendents  of  Bethesda, 
160;  and  the  Bethesda  accounts, 
171 

Barry,  Mr.,  his  story  of  W.'s  preach- 
ing. 253 

Basingstoke,  W.  ill-used  at,  103-6 

Bath,  45,  323 

Bath,  Earl  of,  251 

Beauclerk,  Lord  Sidney,  201 

Bedford,  W.  at,  97 


Belcher,  Jonathan,  receives  W.  to 
Boston,  149;  bids  farewell  to  W., 

155 

Benson,  Dr.,  sends  for  W.,  27  ; 
ordains  W.,  28;  further  relations 
with,  38,  71,  103  ;  and  Lady- 
Huntingdon,  249  ;  the  death  of, 
2S5 

Bermondsey,  W.  preaches  at,  71 

Bermudas,  W.  at,  242 

Berridge,  Rev.  John,  303 

Bethlehem  Hospital,  95 

Bexley,  W.  denied  the  church  at, 
100 

Bibliomancy,  84 

Birstall,  W.  preaches  at,  268 

Bishops,  the,  assail  W.,  217-219; 
answered  by  W.,  218-20 

Bisset,  Rev.  Mr.,  preaches  against 
W.,  178 

Blackheath,  W.  and  Wesley  at,  99 

Blair,  Rev.  Mr.,  142 

Bohler,  Peter,  and  W.,  179,  288 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  hears  W.,  246; 
offers  to  defend  Calvinism,  251 

Bolton,  the  Duke  of,  201 

Bonar,   Rev.  Mr.,  at  Cambuslang, 

194 
Boston  (U.S.),   W.'s  first   visit  to, 
149  ;  effects  of  W.'s  preaching  at, 
234-6 
Brainerd,  Rev.  D.,  W.  teaching  the 
converts  of,  236 


352 


INDEX 


Bristol,  W.'s  early  preaching  at, 
38-9  ;  W.  denied  the  use  of  the 
churches  at,  73-4 ;  Wesley 
preaches  in  the  open  air  at,  85-6  ; 
the  tabernacle  at,  289 
Brockden,   Mr.,  the  conversion  of, 

158-9 
Brought  on,  Rev.  Mr.,  12 
Buckingham,  the  Duchess  of,  202 
Bunyan,  John,  151,  161,  333 

Calvinism,  as  held  by  W.,  115- 
16;  Wesley  denounces,  160;  W. 
defends,  161-2;  its  power,  344 

Cambridge  (U.S.),  152 

Cambuslang,  the  great  revival  at, 
186-92  ;  a  day  of  humiliation  for 
the  revival  at,  192-3  ;  the  second 
celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper 
at,  194-5  ;  the  Cameronians  assail 
the  work  at,  195 

Cameronians,  the  '  Declaration,'  &c, 
of  the,  195 

Cardiff,  81 

Carmarthen,  W.  honoured  at,  205 

Carolina,  slavery  in,  135,  282 

Castaniza's  '  Spiritual  Combat,'  18 

Causton,  Mr.,  and  W.,  59,  65 

Cennick,  John,  aids  W.,  167  ;  joins 
the  Moravians,  240 ;  his  death,  295 

Charleston,  changes  at,  130 ;  W. 
cited  before  Mr.  Garden  at,  146 

Chesterfield,  Earl  of,  246,  289,  305 

Chesterfield,  Lady,  272 

Church,  Rev.  Thomas,  220 

Clap,  Rev.  Mr.,  149,  152 

Clergy,  the,  close  their  pulpits 
against  W.,  51  ;  persecute  the 
Methodists,  207  ;  W.  assails  the 
conduct  of  some  of,  2 1 9-20 

Cole,  Rev.  Thomas,  and  the  boy 
W.,  1,2;  his  love  of  anecdotes, 
2  ;  signs  himself  W.'s  curate,  87  ; 
his  death,  87  ;  his  '  tump '  at 
(^uarhouse,  203 


Colman,    Dr.,    invites    W.    to   New 

England,    148 
Coward's  Trustees,  their  treatment 

of  Dr.  Doddridge,  215-16 
Cumberland,  the  Duke  of,  at   the 

Tabernacle,  201 

Dagge,  Mr.,  tries  to  retain  W.  as 
preacher  at  Newgate,  81  ;  and 
Savage  the  poet,  180 

Deal,  W.  and  Wesley  at,  53 

Deism,  213 

Delamotte,  Mr.,  in  Georgia,  37  ; 
welcomes  W.  to  Savannah,  58  ; 
beloved  by  the  poor,  64 ;  W. 
seeks  his  sister  in  marriage, 
137 

Delitz,  Countess,  becomes  an  active 
Methodist,  252-3 

Dissenters,  the,  W.  friendly  with, 
51  ;  work  of  Doddridge  amongst, 
97  ;  some  of,  hostile  to  W., 
213-17  ;  W.  brings  many  to 
church,  298  ;  W.  practically  one 
of,  304-5 ;  Methodists  become, 
301-4 

Dissenters,     the,     in    Wales,     80, 

348-9 

Doddridge,  Dr.,  assailed  for  coun- 
tenancing W.,  214-17  ;  and  Dr. 
Warburton,  314;  the  death  of, 
285 

Dublin,  W.  entertained  at,  66 ; 
stoned  at,  309 

Dummer,  W.  acts  as  clergyman  at, 

35-6 
Dunfermline,  W.  preaches  at,  172  ; 

W.  and  the  Associate  Presbytery 

meet  at,  173-4 
Durell,        Dr.,        prosecutes       six 

Methodist  students,  327 

Ecclesiastical,  the,  position  of 
W.,  174-5,  -298-9,  3U4  5 


INDEX 


353 


Edinburgh,    W.'s    first    arrival    at, 

172  ;  W.'s  first  sermon  in,  173  ; 
excitement  about  W.  in,  176; 
W.'s  love  for,  200 ;  W.'s  last 
visit  to,   328 

Edwards,  Elizabeth,  marries 
Thomas  Whitefield,    I 

Edwards,  Dr.,  116 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  and  W.,  155, 
198 

Election,  W.  and  the  doctrine  of, 
116;  controversy  between  W. 
and  Wesley  respecting,  133,  144, 
148,  160-165 

Eliot,  the  apostle  of  the  Indians, 
152 

'  Enthusiasm  and  Eukewarmness,' 
Bishop  Gibson's  pastoral  letter 
on,  1 07- 1 1 

Enthusiasm,  Dr.  Doddridge  on, 
215  ;  Bishop  of  Lichfield  on,  231  ; 
Bishop  Lavington  on,  257-60 

Erskine,  Ebenezer,  informs  W.  of 
his  success,  97 ;  description  of, 
127  ;  W.  replies  to,  on  joining 
the  Associate  Presbytery,  170  ; 
replies  again  to  W.,  170;  de- 
scribes the  religious  state  of  Scot- 
land, 172  ;  tries  to  draw  W.  into 
the  Secession,  174  ;  unfriendly 
towards  W.,  185  ;  W.  grieves  for 
the  loss  of,  186  ;  and  Seceders 
appoint  a  day  of  humiliation  for 
W.'s  work,  192  ;  death  of,  286 

Erskine,  Ralph,  W.'s  love  for,  127  ; 
negotiations  between,  and  W., 
127 ;  entreats  W.  to  join  the 
Secessionists,  170;  entertains  YV., 

173  ;  death  of,  286 

'  Evangelical  School,'  the,  347 
Exeter,  W.  stoned  at,  264-5 

Ferrers,  Earl,  313 
Eetter  Lane,  Methodist  meetings  in, 
69,  70 


Fog's  Manor,  excitement  at,  142 
Foote,    Samuel,    hears  W.    preach, 

305-6  ;   comedy  of  the    '  Minor  ' 

by,  311-12 
Foundry,    the,    Wesley   tears    W.'s 

letter   at,    162  ;    nearness    of  the 

Tabernacle  to,  167 
Francke,  Professor,  on    '  The  Fear 

of  Man,'   13;    his    orphan-house, 

65 
Franklin,  Benjamin,  on  W.'s  ser- 
mons, 47-8  ;  W.  preaches  in  front 
of  his  shop,  119  ;  yields  to  W.'s 
power,  119-20;  notices  W.  in 
his  newspaper,  126;  wonders  at 
the  effects  of  W.'s  preaching,  139  ; 
scene  in  the  shop  of,  140 ;  is 
appointed  a  trustee  of  Bethesda, 
343 

Garden,     Commissary,      becomes 

opposed  to  W.,  130 
Garrick,  David,  306,  311,  312 
Garrison,  William  Lloyd,  280-2 
Georgia,    the  Wesleys  in,  33  ;  W. 
invited  to  go  to,  36  ;  formation  of 
the  colony  of,  40-1  ;  W.  appointed 
chaplain  to,  41 ;  slavery  in,  254, 
2S0-2 
Gib,      Adam,     in     the      Associate 
Presbytery,    173;    writes   against 
W.,  185-6;  repents  of  doing  so, 

193 
Gibraltar,  W.  at,  55-7 
Gibson,    Dr.,    writes   against   W., 

108-10 
Gladman,  Captain,  1 12-13 
Gloucester,     W.     born     at,     1  ;     a 

Methodist     Society    formed     at, 

22-3  ;  W.  ordained  at,  25-9  ;  W. 

preaches  his  first  sermon  at,  30 ; 

W.'s  child  dies  at,  210-1 1 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  45,  306-7 
'  Grace,  Free,'  Wesk-y"s  sermon  on, 

133-4,  160;  W.  on,  161 


24 


554 


INDEX 


Grimshaw,  Rev.  William,  character 

and  labours  of,    266  ;    death   of, 
317-19 

Habersham,  James,  chooses  the 
site  of  the  orphan-house,  131  ; 
appointed  a  manager  of  the 
orphan-house,  160  ;  appointed 
President  of  the  Commons  House 
of  Assembly,  294 

Hampton  (Minchin),  riots  at,  207- 
8,  212 

Hannam  Mount,  74>  85 

Hardy,  Mr.  Charles,  a  trustee  of 
W.'s  chapels,  314 

Harvard  College,  234 

Harris,  Howel,  character  and 
work,  79  >  W.  follows  the 
example  of,  105 ;  letter  of  W. 
to,  114;  sings  a  hymn  with  W., 
336 

Hastings,  Lady  Betty,  34 

Haworth,  W.  at,  266-7,  3I7_I9 

Haime,  John,  265 

Henry,  Matthew,  W.  and  the  com- 
mentary of,  32 

Hervey,  James,  one  of  the  first 
Methodists,  12;  a  convert  of  W., 
20  ;  an  author,  245  ;  letter  from 
W.  to,  263  ;  lives  in  W.'s  house, 
277  ;   W.  uses  his  friendship,  279 

Hervey,  Lord,  201 

Hinchinbroke,  Lady,  203 

'  Holy  Club,'  the,  15 

Holy  Ghost,  the,  operations  of, 
108-10  ;  W.  on,  109-10,  151, 
231,  316-17;  Bishop  Warburton 
on,  314-15 

Hotham,  the  Hon.  Miss,  277 

Hume,  David,  his  opinion  of  W.'s 
preaching,  247 

Humility,  W.'s  prayer  for,  17  ;  evi- 
dences of  W.'s,  147,  271,  338 

Huntingdon,  Earl  of,  71 


Huntingdon,  Countess  of,  attends 
the  Tabernacle,  200  ;  letters  from 
the  Duchess  of  Marlborough  to, 
201-2  ;  letter  from  the  Duchess 
of  Buckingham  to,  202  ;  invites 
W.  to  preach  at  her  house,  246  ; 
appoints  W.  one  of  her  chaplains, 
247  ;  her  religious  life,  248-50  ; 
services  at  the  house  of,  250-4, 
272  ;  illness  of,  279  ;  life  at 
Ashby,  278 ;  the  relation  of,  to 
Dissent,  303;  and  the  'Minor,' 
312;  her  chapel  at  Bath,  323; 
founds  Trevecca  College,  329 

Hyde  Park,  W.  preaches  in,  at 
midnight,  273 

'Imitation  of  Christ,' 7 
Impressions,      Jonathan      Edwards 
cautions  W.  against,    1 55-6  ;  W. 
sees  his  mistakes  about,  210 
Indians,   the,  W.  visits,  236 
Ingham,  Benjamin,  12,  68 
Ireland,  W.'s  visits  to,  66,  283,  309 
Islington,    Methodist    ministers   at, 
70  ;  W.  preaches  in  the  church- 
yard of,  89 

Johnson,  Dr.,  11,  311,  335 
Jones,    Rev.    Griffith,    his    work  in 

Wales,  78-9 
Justification,  W.  on,  228-30 

Keen,  Mr.  Robert,  a  trustee  of 
W.'s  chapels,  314 

Ken's  '  Manual  for  Winchester 
Scholars,'  5 

Kennington  Common,  W.  on,  92, 
99  ;  collections  at,  93 

Kingswood,  condition  of,  73  ;  W. 
preaches  to  the  colliers  of,  74,  76, 
"]"],  82  ;  W.  lays  the  foundation 
of  a  school  at,  86  ;  effects  of  W.'s 
teaching  upon  the  colliers  of,  101 


INDEX 


Kinsman,  Rev.  Andrew,  307,  347 
Kirk  of  Scotland,  W.  and  the,  170, 
172 

LAVINGTON,  Bishop,  writes  against 

YY.,  257-60;  threatens  the  Rev. 

Mr.   Thompson,    264 ;    sees   W. 

stoned,    264-5  >  tne  bad  state  of 

his  diocese,  265  note 
Law,  William,    his  '  Serious   Call ' 

and    'Christian    Perfection,'  11; 

his    '  Ourania,'  35  ;    his  estimate 

of  human  nature,  184  ;  gospelised 

by  W.,  243 
Lichfield,   Bishop  of,  W.   answers, 

231 
Lisbon,  W.  visits,  291-3 
Lisburne,  Lady,  203 
Long  Acre  Chapel,  riots  at,  295-9 
London,  W.'s  early  efforts  in,  32, 

49  ;  the  religious  societies  of,  69 
Lonsdale,  Lord,  201 
Ludgate  prison,  W.  preaches  in,  33 

Marriage,  W.'s,  179 

Marlborough,  the  Duchess  of, 
201-2 

Maryland,  slavery  in,  135 

Mary-le-Bone  fields,  W.  preaches 
in,  184 

McCulloch,  Rev.  W.,  his  work  at 
Cambuslang,  1S6-91,  194 

Methodists,  the,  at  Oxford,  12;  are 
joined  by  W.,  12  ;  their  rules  of 
living,  14,  15  ;  under  the  Tole- 
ration Act,  301-4 

Ministers,    W.'s   influence    among, 

137.  347 
•  Minor,'  the,  311-12 
Moncrieff,  Rev.  Alexander,  173 
Moody,  Rev.  Samuel,  153,  233 
Moorfields,    W.'s    first    sermon  in, 
90-2  ;  his   second,  93  ;  the  love 
of  W.   for  the    conrrretrations  at, 


98,  205  ;  the  Tabernacle  built  in, 
167  ;  W.  preaches  in,  at  Whit- 
suntide, 181  ;  the  collections  at, 
205 

Morality,  W.  on  the  connexion 
between  religion  and,  46-7 

Morgan,  Thomas,  12 

Moravians,  the,  W.  accuses,  of 
drawing  away  his  friends,  255  ; 
W.  exposes  their  faults,  288 

Morris,  Mr.  Samuel,  founds  the 
Virginian  Church,  236-7 

Neal,  Nathanael,  his  letters  to  Dr. 
Doddridge,  215-16 

Negroes,  W.'s  remembrance  of  the, 
128 ;  W.'s  adventures  among, 
130;  W.  rebukes  their  owners 
for  their  miserable  condition  in 
Maryland,  Virginia,  and  Caro- 
lina, 135  ;  the  love  of  some  for 
W.,  146;  preaches  to,  in  Ber- 
mudas, 242 

Newark  (U.S.),  extraordinary  effects 
of  W.'s  preaching  at,  157 

New  Birth,  the,  W.  passes  through, 
14  ;  preached  in  Scotland,  186 

New  England,  W.'s  first  visit  to, 
147-57  ;  letters  upon  the  con- 
dition of  religion  in,  196-7 

New  York,  W.  invited  to,  122  ; 
arduous  labours  in,  140  ;  wonder- 
ful effects  of  W.'s  preaching,   157 

Noble,  Mr ,  122 

Northampton  racecourse,  97 

Nottingham  (U.S.),  W.'s  preaching 
at,  141 

OGILVIE,  Rev.  Mr.,  177 

Oglethorpe,  General,  befriends 
prisoners,  40 ;  founds  the  Georgian 
colony,  40-1  ;  receives  W.,  41  ; 
C.  Wesley  and,  plan  an  orphan- 
house,  62  ;  a  link  between  W. 
and  the  literary  world,  3  ^  \ 


356 


INDEX 


Open-air  preaching,  W.  first  thinks 
of,  71  ;  W.  begins,  74  ;  W.  justi- 
fies, 2195  W.  induces  Wesley  to 
adopt,  85,  99 ;  W.  begins  in 
London,  89  ;  W.  exhorts  others 
to  use,  in  ;  in  America,  126, 
236-8  ;  resumed  in  England  by 
W.,  167;  W.'s  plan,  169;  its 
happy  influence  upon  W.,  313 ; 
W.  glories  in,  328 

Oratory,  W.'s  estimate  of,  60,  292  ; 
characteristics  of  W.'s,  90, 
331-2  ;  Hume's  estimate  of  W.'s, 
247 ;  Lord  Chesterfield's,  289 
note ;  Rolingbroke's,  246 

Ordination,  W.'s,  25-9;  his  change 
of  view,  172,  175 

Orphan-house,  its  origin,  62 ;  the 
scheme  adopted  by  W.,  63  ;  its 
influence  upon  W.,  63;  W.  col- 
lects money  for  the,  93  ;  its  site 
131  ;  work  before  the  opening, 
131  ;  W.  lays  the  foundation- 
brick  of,  133  ;  W.  sends  for  a 
manager,  140  ;  W.  loved  by  the 
children  of,  142;  opened,  160; 
life  at,  160,  199;  W.  in  danger 
of  arrest  for  the  debts  of,  166 ; 
W.  prays  for  help  for,  167  ;  W.'s 
tender  interest  in  the  children, 
171  ;  subscribers  to,  169  ;  troubles 
from  debts,  from  managers,  from 
magistrates,  and  from  the 
Spaniards,  198;  W.  writes  an 
account  of,  199  ;  Moorfields' 
congregations  and,  206  ;  the 
accounts  audited,  238  ;  W.'s 
knowledge  of  the  working,  293  ; 
W.'s  plan  of  paying  the  officials, 
301  ;  W.  purposes  to  add  a  col- 
lege to  the  house,  321-2,  324-6; 
W.'s  last  visit  to,  336  ;  its  history 
after  W.'s  death,  343 

Ottery  church  bells  rung  against 
W.,  208 


Oxford,  W.'s  life  at,  10-24;  W.  is 
threatened  by  the  Vice-Chan- 
cellor of,  87  ;  expulsion  of 
Methodist   students  from,   326 

Oxford,  the  Earl  of,  203 

Pearce,  Dr.  Z.,  and  the  Long  Acre 
disturbances,  296 

Pemberton,  Rev.  Mr.,  W.'s  apology 
to,  124 ;  W.  preaches  in  the 
meeting-house  of,  157 

Penn,  Wm.,  son  of,  140 

Perfection,  the  doctrine  of,  134, 
150,  161 

Periam,  Joseph,  is  taken  from  Beth- 
lehem Hospital  by  W. ,  95  ;  sails 
with  W.  to  Georgia,  96 

Philadelphia,  W.'s  first  visit  to, 
117;  W.  leaves,  amid  a  great 
company,  126 ;  the  excitement 
concerning  W.,  138-9  ;  a  hall 
built  for,  158;  the  conversion  of 
the  recorder  of,  15S-9  ;  W.  in- 
vited to  become  a  minister  in,  236 

Philips,  Sir  John,  his  annuity  to  W., 
28 

Plymouth,  W.'s  adventures  at, 
221-4 

Prayer,  extemporaneous,  W.  first 
uses,  69 

Prisons,  W.  labours  in,  31,  33,  45, 
74,  81 

Puritans  and  Puritanism  in  America, 
148-51 

Puritan  theology,  115 

Quakers  and  W. ,  44,    102,    106, 

113,  141,  184,  194 
Queensbury,  the  Duchess  of,  203 
Quietism,  W.  and,  18,  19 

Races,  W.  preaches  at,  103-6 
Reprobation,  the   doctrine   of,  W. 

defends,  150-51;  W.  relinquishes, 

241 


INDEX 


3=7 


Rhode  Island,  149 

Rogers,     Rev.     Mr.,      of     Ipswich 

(U.S.),  153 
Rogers,  Rev.  Mr.,  of  Bedford,  97 

Saltzburgers,  the,  40,  65 
Savannah,    W.'s    pastoral    life    in, 

58—65  ;  W.'s  second  visit  to,  131 
Scotland,  result  of  W.'s  work  in,  34S 
Scougal,  Rev.  Henry,  14 
Selwyn,  Lady,  27 
Sermons    by    W. ,     30,    90-2,    191, 

211-12,  228-9 

Sewal,    Dr.,    W.    preaches    in    the 

meeting-house  of,  153 
Seward,    William,     his     character, 

112;  sails  with  W.  to  America, 

112;    visits    Philadelphia,     117; 

his    unwise    zeal,     139-40;     his 

death  and  its  consequences  to  W., 

140,  166 
Sheffield,   Charles  Wesley  opposed 

at,   269;  W.'s   spiritual   triumph 

at,  270 
Shirley,  Lady  Fanny,  252 
Shuter,   Mr.    Charles,  his   love   for 

W.,  306;  his  religious  indecision, 

307 

Slavery,  forbidden  in  Georgia,  40  ; 
its  effects,  135;  W.'s  unsatis- 
factory views  on,  135-6 ;  W. 
pleads  for  its  introduction  into 
Georgia,  254-5 ;  is  introduced, 
280-2 

Smith,  Rev.  Josiah,  of  Charleston, 
146 

Sortilegium  is  practised  by  Wesley, 

53-4;  133-4 
Sovereignty,  the  Divine,  115-16 
St.  Gennis,  208,  264,  274 
St.  John,  Lord,  251 
St.  Mary  de  Crypt,  Gloucester,  W.    1 

in,  as  a  boy,  4 ;  school  of,  4  ;  W. 

preaches  his  first  sermon  in,  50 
Slonehouse,  W.  labours  at,  42 


Stonehouse,  Rev.  Mr.,  S9 
Stonehouse,  Dr.,  262,  274 
Suffolk,  Countess  of,  252 

Tabernacle,  the,  is  built  for  W., 
167  ;  attended  by  the  nobility, 
200-3;  W.'s  son  is  baptized  at, 
210  ;  Doddridge  preaches  at,  214  ; 
Wesley  preaches  at,  272  ;  W.  lives 
at  the  house  adjoining,  277  ;  made 
a  permanent  building,  2S7  ;  W.'s 
funeral  sermon  at,  341-2 

Tennent,  Rev.  Win,  visits  W., 
118  ;  his  house  and  college,  125 

Tennent,  Rev.  Gilbert,  his  manner 
of  preaching,  122;  conducts  W. 
to  New  York,  123  ;  views  on  the 
Scotch  Seceders,  128  ;  letters  con- 
cerning his  work  and  W.'s  in 
America,  196-7 

Tewkesbury,  100 

Thompson,  Rev.  Mr.,  264,  274 

Thorpe,  Rev.  John,  275 

Toleration  Act,  the,  and  the  Metho- 
dists, 301-4 

Tottenham  Court  Chapel  built, 
301  ;  congregations  at,  305  ;  regis- 
tered as  an  Independent  Chapel, 
304-5 

Tower  Chapel,  32 

Townshend,  Lady,  251 

Trevecca  College,  329 

Virginia,  slavery  in,  135 ;  the 
Presbyterian  church  in,  230,  349 

Voyages,  W.'s,  his  first,  52  ;  second, 
65;  third,  112-17;  fourth,  162; 
fifth,  225-32 ;  sixth,  243-4  J 
seventh,  284  ;  eighth,  284  ;  ninth, 
291  ;  tenth,  294;  eleventh,  319; 
twelfth,  322 ;  thirteenth,  336 

Wales,  Methodism  in,  78-81,  204, 

348 
Wales,  Prince  of,  201,  282-3 


558 


INDEX 


Walpole,  Horace,  253 

Warburton,  Bishop,  on  the  work  of 
the  Holy  Spirit,  314-17 

Watts,  Dr.  Isaac,  71,  214,  255 

Webster,  Rev.  Alex.,  of  Edinburgh, 
194,  198 

Wellington,  263 

Wesley,  Charles,  and  W.  at  Oxford, 
12-19;  m  Georgia,  36,  41  ;  thinks 
of  an  orphanage,  62  ;  his  verses 
on  W.,  13,  96,  241,  278  ;  strives 
to  prevent  breach  between  his 
brother  and  W.,  162;  at  New- 
castle, 268;  and  his  brother's 
intended  marriage,  269  ;  his 
dangers  at  Sheffield,  269  ;  and  the 
last  meeting  with  W. ,  335 

Wesley,  John,  at  Oxford,  12-19  !  m 
Georgia,  33,  36,  41,  64;  seeks 
to  prevent  W.  from  sailing  to 
America,  53  :  his  conversion,  64  ; 
meets  W. ,  67;  is  refused  the 
churches,  68  ;  joins  W.  at  Bristol, 
84  ;  learns  from  W.  to  preach  in 
the  open  air,  84-6,  99 ;  sermon 
on  'Free-Grace,'  133;  sermon 
described,  160-1  ;  occasions  a 
breach  between  W.  and,  134  ;  his 
breach  with  W.,  134,  144-45, 
14S-151,  154,  160-5;  is  hindered 
from  marrying  Mrs.  Grace  Murray, 
269;  preaches  for  W. ,  272;  on 
W.'s  disposition,  278;  serious 
illness  of,  289  ;  on  W.'s  appear- 
ance, 323  ;  last  meeting  with  W., 
335  ;  preaches  W.'s  funeral  ser- 
mon, 341 

Whitefield,  Andrew,  1 

IVhitefield,  George,  childhood,  1  ; 
his  appearance  as  a  child,  2  ;  as  a 
young  man,  91  ;  in  middle  life, 
299  ;  at  the  close  of  life,  300, 
323  ;  early  faults,  3  ;  love  of  act- 
ing, 4,  5  ;  school  life,  5  ;  assists 
in  the  Bell  Inn,  6  ;  enters  Oxford, 


10;  his  life  there,  11-22;  his 
new  birth,  14;  persecutions,  16; 
adopts  Quietism,  18  ;  his  charac- 
teristics and  habits,  2,  3,  55,  85, 
123,  142,  148,  152-4,  261-2, 
277-8,  30S,  311,  329-332; 
ordained  deacon,  28  ;  first  sermon, 
30-1  ;  visits  London,  32  ;  invited 
to  Georgia,  36 ;  appointed  to 
Georgia,  41  ;  labours  at  Stone- 
house,  42;  great  success  at  Bristol, 
43-6  ;  on  morality  and  religion, 
46-7  ;  his  printed  sermons,  48, 
23^>  35°  5  f^St  excitement  in 
London,  49 ;  breaks  with  the 
clergy,  51  ;  and  Dissenters,  51, 
97.  213-17,  295-9,  304-5;  sails 
for  Georgia,  52 ;  at  Gibraltar, 
55-7  ;  his  illnesses,  57, 60,  72,  140, 
146,  193,  206,  232-3,  239,  248, 
256,  274,  279,  284,  310,  313, 
329;  first  visit  to  Savannah,  58- 
65  ;  sails  for  England,  65  ;  arrives 
in  London,  67 ;  extemporaneous 
prayer,  69  ;  ordained  priest,  71; 
preaches  in  the  open  air,  74  ;  his 
emotion  while  preaching,  77-8, 
82,  140-2,  337  ;  visits  Wales, 
yS,  80,  87,  204-5  5  and  Howel 
Harris,  79,  105,  114,  336; 
his  relation  to  the  Quakers  (see 
Quakers) ;  lays  the  foundation 
of  Kings  wood  School,  86 ; 
preaches  in  Islington  churchyard 
and  in  Moorfields,  89;  and  Joseph 
Periam,  95  ;  his  connexion  with 
the  Erskines  (see  Ebenezer  and 
Ralph  Erskine)  ;  at  Basingstoke, 
103  ;  at  races,  103  ;  and  Dr.  Gib- 
son, 108;  his  theology,  115; 
breach  with  Wesley,  (see  John 
Wesley),  his  courtship,  137  ;  his 
marriage,  179;  his  domestic  life, 
293  ;  his  influence  through 
ministers,  137,  347  ;   the  physical 


INDEX 


359 


effects  of  his  preaching  in  America, 
141-3,  157  ;  in  England,  227  ;  in 
Scotland,  186-92;  first  visit  to 
New  England,  147  ;  loses  his 
popularity,  166-7;  the  Tabernacle 
built  for,  167 ;  resigned  under 
reverses,  168  ;  invited  to  Scotland, 
169  ;  first  visit  to  Scotland,  172  ; 
his  ecclesiastical  position,  175, 
298-9,  301-5  ;  in  Moorfields  and 
Mary-le-Bone  fields,  181-5  ;  at- 
tempts on  his  life,  106,  184,  264, 
296-7  ;  Adam  Gib's  warning 
against,  185 ;  at  Cambuslang, 
186-95  >  assailed  by  the  Came- 
ronians,  195  ;  and  the  nobility, 
200-3,  246,  250-3,  272,  305; 
defends  the  Hampton  Methodists, 
212  ;  at  Hampton,  at  Ottery,  and 
at  Wedgbury,  207  ;  good  effects 
of  his  preaching,  209;  birth  and 
death  of  his  son,  209  ;  is  assailed 
by  the  bishops,  217-21  ;  at  Ply- 
mouth, 221-4  5  answers  the 
bishops,  226-7  ;  his  view  of  the 
atonement,  228 ;  answers  the 
bishop  of  Lichfield,  231  ;  at 
Boston  (U.S.),  234 ;  ranges  the 
woods,  235-9;  at  Bethesda,  241  ; 
at  Bermudas,  242 ;  confesses 
his  mistakes,  243,  259-60 ;  ap- 
pointed chaplain  to  the  Countess 
of  Huntingdon,  246-7  ;  Bishop 
Lavington  writes  against,  257-60; 
answers  the  bishop,  259  ;  assaulted 
at  Exeter,  264 ;  visits  Haworth, 
266-8,  276,  317-19;  at  Leeds, 
268 ;  at  Newcastle,  268 ;  inter- 
feres between  Wesley  and  Mrs. 
Grace  Murray,  269 ;  his  Christian 
graces,  270-1  ;  his  success  at 
Sheffield,  269-70 ;  preaches  for 
Wesley,  272  ;  in  Hyde  Park, 
273 ;  on  the  north  road,  274-7  > 


in  Ireland,  283,  309  ;  writes  to 
Count  Zinzendorf,  288  ;  visits 
Lisbon,  291  ;  at  Long  Acre 
Chapel,  295 ;  builds  Tottenham 
Court  Chapel,  301  ;  is  heard  by 
actors,  305 ;  stoned  in  Ireland, 
309 ;  is  mimicked  on  the  stage, 
311;  visits  Earl  Ferrers,  313; 
appoints  trustees  to  his  chapels, 
314;  assailed  by  Bishop  War- 
burton,  314;  opens  a  chapel  at 
Bath,  323  ;  and  his  proposed 
college,  324-6 ;  defends  the 
students  of  St.  Edmund  Hall, 
327  ;  death  of  his  wife,  328  ;  opens 
Trevecca  College,  329 ;  his  writ- 
ings, 333  ;  and  literary  men,  334; 
his  last  meeting  with  the  Wesleys, 
335  ;  sails  from  England  for  the 
last  time,  336  ;  attends  an  execu- 
tion, 337 ;  his  last  journey  and 
last  sermon,  338 ;  his  death, 
339-40 ;  his  funeral,  341  ;  the 
history  of  his  orphan-house,  343  ; 
the  results  of  his  work,  343-50 

Whitefield,  Mrs.  (W.'s  mother), 
her  marriage,  1  ;  her  character, 
1-2  ;  her  treatment  of  W.,  5,  7, 
S  ;  marries  Mr.  Longden,  4 ; 
wishes  W.  to  go  to  Oxford,  8  ; 
her  farewell  to  W.,  38;  letters 
from  W.  to,  124,  198,  236,  245  ; 
her  death,  285 

Whitefield,  Rev.  Samuel,  1 

Whitefield,  Thomas,  1 

Willison,  Rev.  Mr.,  192 

Winter,  Cornelius,  describes  W.'s 
emotions,  78 ;  sails  with  W.  on 
his  last  voyage,  336 

Wishart,  Rev.  George,  196 

Woodward,  Dr.,  78 


Zinzendorf,  Count,  228 


Ubc  ©resbam  picas 

UN  WIN  BROTHERS, 
WOKING  AND  LONDON 


EXTRACTS  FROM  PRESS  NOTICES 

"  It  is  a  wonderful  story  which  he  has  to  tell.  He  has  caught  the  tone 
of  romance  which  belongs  to  the  days  of  the  Evangelical  Revival  in  this 
country,  and  there  is  hardly  a  dull  page  in  the  book  from  first  to  last. 
.  .  .  Whitefield's  was  a  fascinating  though  somewhat  unintelligible 
personality,  and  one  follows  the  extraordinary  tale  of  his  journeys 
and  adventures  with  the  greatest  interest  and  curiosity.  Mr.  Gledstone 
has  done  his  work  so  well,  and  maintained  the  balance  of  the  narrative 
so  carefully,  that  we  doubt  whether  there  is  any  other  single  book  which 
throws  so  much  light  on  the  period  under  survey,  and  gives  so  clear  a 
picture  of  the  religious  movements  of  the  time." — The  Speaker. 

"The  best  biography  of  one  of  the  world's  epoch-makers,  and  to  read 
it  will  be  not  only  a  liberal  education  but  an  intense  delight.  Mr. 
Gledstone  must  have  exhausted  all  the  sources  of  information  concerning 
Whitefield,  for  there  are  continual  evidences  of  his  up-to-date  knowledge 
of  his  hero.  There  is  a  beautiful  photogravure  and  other  illustrations 
to  this  book,  which  must  be  regarded  as  a  classic  among  religious 
biographies.'' — Examiner. 

"  We  hasten  to  offer  to  Mr.  Gledstone  the  right  hand  ot  congratulation 
upon  this  practical  demonstration  of  the  advantages  of  compression.  This 
story  of  the  firebrand  of  Welsh  Methodism  is  packed  very  tight ;  so  as  by 
fire  have  been  purged  away  all  hay,  straw,  and  stubble,  and  the  residue  is 
a  crystal  of  many  facets." — Academy. 

"It  is  well  that  the  characteristics  of  such  a  man  should  be  set  in  a 
dramatic  light  by  one  who  understands  the  secret  of  his  power  in  an  age 
when  other  and  less  spiritual  ideals  are  in  the  ascendant.  .  .  .  Written 
with  an  entire  mastery  of  the  facts  and  forces  which  made  the  Evangelical 
Revival  of  last  century  resistless,  this  monograph  sets  forth  the  greatness 
of  Whitefield's  labours,  the  lofty  abandon  of  his  faith,  the  far-reaching 
consequences  of  his  life." — Leeds  Mercury. 


PRESS  NOTICES  (continued)— 

"  Mr.  Gledstone  permits  none  of  the  dramatic  episodes  of  Whitefield's 
career  nor  the  curious  aspects  of  his  strange  personality  to  evade  him. 
His  biography  is  well  planned  and  well  written  upon  ample  knowledge 
and  with  a  sense  of  historical  perspective  which  lends  it  singular  interest 
and  especial  value." — Christian  World. 

"  A  sufficient  and  well-written  account  of  this  remarkable,  if  not  very 
attractive,  personality.  Mr.  Gledstone's  capital  sketch  forms  a  very 
useful  and  judicial  account  of  a  man  whose  influence  still  counts  for 
more  than  is  generally  supposed."— Literature. 

"  In  this  convenient  size  the  biography  will  do  much  to  reawaken 
interest  in  a  preacher  who  in  his  day  exercis  :d  so  powerful  an  influence 
on  both  sides  of  the  Atlantic." — Scotsman. 

"This  work  is  all  that  one  could  desire — ample  in  details,  clear  in 
arrangement,  and  written  with  much  force  as  well  as  deep  sympathy.  It 
is  no  bald  narrative  ;  every  page  has  some  striking  fact  or  story — some 
things  that  may  astonish  such  as  would  complacently  associate  everything 
that  is  aggressive  and  ingenious  with  our  own  clays.  This  is  a  book  which 
wealthy  Christians  should  take  an  interest  in  circulating  among  such  as 
cannot  buy  for  themselves,  but  are  eager  to  read.  Every  page  has  some- 
thing that  may  be  turned  to  account  in  service  for  Christ." — Christian. 

"Mr.  Gledstone's  work  is  excellent  and  interesting,  and  he  is  to  be 
congratulated  upon  a  readable  and  well-written  biography." 

Literary  World. 

"Is  one  of  the  very  best  religious  biographies  we  have,  and  this  con- 
densed version  preserves  all  its  merits  and  features,  the  only  important 
exception  being  that  details  are  abbreviated  and  documents  summarised." 

Aberdeen  Free  Press. 

"  We  wish  this  book  could  be  placed  in  the  hands  of  every  minister, 
whether  Episcopalian  or  non-Episcopalian,  for  we  believe  that  many  who 
are  at  present  dissatisfied  with  the  results  of  their  labours,  and  have  lost 
heart  in  consequence,  would,  by  reading  the  story  of  Whitefield's  labours, 
have  their  eyes  opened  to  see  the  secret  of  ministerial  success,  and  be  led 
to  seek  power  from  the  same  source  from  which  he  obtained  it." 

The  English  Churchman. 


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